The following day Ulfric had called a meeting of his most trusted generals. Galmar was, of course, in attendance, as well as Ysarald Thrice-Pierce (who was more often than not) at the palace, helping him oversee his troops. He also invited Rorgun, his commander of the rift camp, and Vidnar Grey-Mane, acting Jarl of Whiterun. And Svala.
To say Galmar was not pleased by this was a gross understatement. He'd all but shouted Ulfric's ears off the night before, accusing him of thinking with only his cock. Not that it was true- Svala deserved to lead alongside him in battle. The previous battles with her serving underneath him were merely perfunctory so that as he wouldn't seem as though he were thinking with only his cock (unfortunately it seemed it had not worked) but meaningless all the same. Svala was more powerful than him, it was that simple. When it came to their homeland, yes, it was true there would soon be no one more powerful than he. But she operated on an entirely different plane all together- she fought murders, tyrants, dragons, and always came out the victor. How could he, how could any mortal man compete with that? The least modicum of respect he could give her was a place ruling at his side, where she belonged.
"My Jarl, if I may," Jorlief's voice brought him out of his musing. "We've received correspondence from Clan Shatter-Shield."
"What do they want?" Ulfric snapped, staring at the map before him. Gradually, the little red flags were being replaced with blue. Soon he hoped to look down and see only blue.
"They want to offer you their daughter Nilsine's hand," Jorlief said in a rush. "Should you need a wife after the war."
"You mean when I'm king," He answered without looking up. "I will keep her in mind." He wouldn't- he remembered Nilsine as a babe, running through the city with her twin. Besides, his heart already belonged to another (worthier) candidate. "Have the others arrived?"
"They have, my jarl. They are awaiting you in the great hall. Shall I send them in?"
Ulfric nodded, and his men entered the war room swiftly. However, he noted with displeasure, Svala was not among them.
This did not go unnoticed by Galmar, who sat and scoffed, "What, the wench couldn't even be bothered to show up?"
"She'll be here." Even if he had to have Calder drag her all the way from Hjerim. "We shall start in the meantime. Rorgun, how is our position in the rift?"
"Excellent, my Jarl," Rorgun smiled at him. "Although there is a minor increase in the number of Thalmor agents patrolling the hold-"
"An increase in Thalmor operatives is not what I consider 'excellent'." Ulfric replied icily. "Do you have any idea why they're appearing?"
"Well, my jarl, there's posters of a woman with a scarred face," Rorgun spoke nervously. "But I don't know why she's wanted, and no one has seen heads or tails of her in or around Riften."
He scowled. Damn Thalmor, couldn't leave well enough alone. He knew she had raided their embassy in Solitude, but he couldn't imagine such a disproportionate response from Elenwen. The elven bitch was many things, but she wasn't illogical- she wouldn't waste manpower and resources on one thief. This went deeper, and Ulfric knew there was a connection to the damn elf who had been parading as Wuunferth. He remembered Svala saying she was still hunted by them, and how it seemed they knew about her being Dragonborn before she did...but why infiltrate his palace? Nothing made sense. "Once the war is won we will wipe the Thalmor from our land, once and for all." He only hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.
"My jarl, I'm sorry I'm late." Luckily for Ulfric, Svala chose that moment to make her appearance in the war room. All pairs of eyes snapped to her, and it was easy to see why. She was wearing the officer's armor he had left for her in Hjerim, and the sight of her cause his mouth to go dry. Her strong arms and shapely legs were on display, showcasing her ivory skin and the scars she had collected. Some of her auburn hair had come loose from its braid, framing her face from beneath the bear's head helmet, and her nose was tinged pink with cold. Still, what gave Ulfric pause most of all was the cloak wrapped around her- it was made of a saber cat he had killed for her and thus had the cloak made for her. An old Nordic courting tradition; he still remembered the cloak his father made for his mother.
Coming back to himself, Ulfric waved away her apology. His focus had turned to the way Rorgun and Ysarald were eyeing her- it made him want to throw her on top of the map and take her so savagely that there would be no mistaking whom she belonged to. Still, he managed to put his jealousy aside and continue. "Galmar, how goes it in Haafingar? You say we are nearly ready to march on Solitude?"
"Aye," Galmar agreed with a withering glance at Svala. "Fort Hraagstad remains in Imperial control, but once that falls, there will be nothing remaining between us and Solitude."
"Excellent. Bone-Breaker, I want you to take the lead on this. Lead the attack and capture the fort." Her emerald eyes widened in surprise at him. Galmar's had started to twitch.
"With all due respect Jarl Ulfric," Svala began slowly, a pretty flush coloring her pale cheeks. "I don't think I'm the best choice for such an assignment."
"Damn right." Galmar said, his eyes narrowing at her. "That's even if the whelp can be bothered to show up." He noticed her eyes flash with anger but she remained silent, staring daggers at Galmar.
"Perhaps the lady is right," Rorgun said impishly. "If her constitution is too weak for battle, best she be out with it now. Rather than turn tail on the field." Yet even as he so callously disrespected her, his beady little eyes raked over her form. Svala, whom he expected to be furious, seemed to wilt with Rorgun's words. It made Ulfric sick with rage.
"My word is final!" He slammed his fist upon the table for good measure, sending red and blue flags flying onto the floor. "Bone-Breaker will lead the attack on Fort Hraagstad. You will leave for our camp in Haafingar tomorrow. I will hear no more on this."
"As you wish." Galmar grumbled. Svala still seemed troubled but simply nodded at him, keeping her gaze on her lap.
The rest of the meeting went smoothly and did little to hold his attention. He decreed that Vidnar Grey-Mane would continue to serve as Whiterun's jarl, and that he would appoint new jarls to Falkreath, Morthal, and Markarth upon his victory in the war. Truthfully, he already had individuals in mind for those posts, but he would keep them to himself until the time arose to call on them. When he went to dismiss them, however, he asked her to stay behind.
After the room had emptied out she looked expectantly at him. "What can I do for you, Jarl Ulfric?"
"I don't think I've ever heard you so formal before," he told her with a slight chuckle, hoping it would put her at ease. It did not.
"I've never seen you so-" she shook her head. "You needed me, my jarl?"
"Yes," he motioned her closer to him. "You've become a true hero of Skyrim, Svala. I number you among my kin. As such, you shall now be known as Stormblade. The love of the land and her people flows from your heart, even as death to her enemies flows from your hands. On behalf of all the sons and daughters of Skyrim, on behalf of all that is righteous and true, take this token of our appreciation for your service." He held out an ebony sword to her, enchanted with the strongest spark spell Wuunferth (the real Wuunferth) could create and complete with a sapphire insignia of his army. The sword had been crafted for her after she had helped them win Whiterun, waiting for her in his chambers all this time.
She was shaking her head, refusing to take the weapon. "No, no, I can't accept this. I don't deserve this."
He frowned; why was she always so difficult? "Stormblade, this is a great honor. I want you to stand by my side as we claim Solitude together." Her face was still so grim. Didn't she understand what an honor he was bestowing on her? "You would defy your king?"
"You're not king yet. And you don't understand-" some of her fire was returning to her, good. He was just grateful Rorgun was so thick he didn't recognize her from the wanted posters, lest she incinerate one of his generals in his palace. "There are things I need to do, that only I can do, and if I fail I won't just die, but everyone will die." There were tears gathering in her eyes when she lifted her head to meet his gaze again. "So I can't play soldier, not now, not like you need me to. I can't be your Stormblade."
"What must you do?" There were so many things he wanted to ask her- if this was about the fake Wuunferth, how had she known Wuunferth to be dead, if this was connected to her visit to High Hrothgar...but she was so stricken and vulnerable in front of him that it gave him pause. Rarely had he seen her like this before.
"I have to go to Alftand," she laughed bitterly. "To look for a damn Elder Scroll."
Ulfric's eyebrows raised at that; an Elder Scroll? "I thought they were just the stuff of legends."
"Dragons were supposed to be found only in legends too," she quipped back to him. "And we both legends don't burn down villages."
At hearing his own words echoed back to him Ulfric was instantly overcome with the sensation of burning. He could smell the smoke, he could hear the screams...no. She was right. If dragons once again roamed, than perhaps a weapon as legendary as an Elder Scroll could be used to aid her. Still, he was troubled for her, capable as she was. "Those old dwemer ruins are dangerous," he remembered from his time during the Great War. All traps and automatons...he had lost more than a few good men searching for glory or gold to them. "You're not planning on going alone?" Her silence spoke volumes. "No, absolutely not-"
"I will go to Fort Hraagstad and capture it for you, but yes, then I will go to Alftand. Alone." Her voice was hard and stoic. Her eyes bore into his. "No one else will die for me. Never again."
"We will take Solitude once the fort is secure," he said, irritated with her all over again. "You will be with me on that day. You must."
"What's the problem?" She smiled cruelly at him. "Can't fight your own battles? You started this one by killing Torygg, my jarl. And I recall Tullius nearly having your head on a pike so what exactly is stopping you from taking his?"
"Nothing!" Ulfric roared at her, his fist nearly going through the wood of the table. "And if you are foolish enough to think so not only are you treasonous, wench, but you are weak too!"
Her eyes flashed brilliant green at him, as green as the fields of the Reach, before he recognized the word she was mouthing at him: fus. The table flew at him, nearly pinning him against the wall as she watched smugly. "You still think me weak?" There was a slight growl in her voice that wasn't entirely human when she spoke to him again. It both terrified and excited him.
"You're wearing my cloak," he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Yes I'm aware I serve in your army," she snapped, rolling her eyes at him. "And did you forget we are in Windhelm when designing these uniforms?! I am freezing you imbecile."
"Not the uniform you dense woman," Ulfric always gave as good as he got, especially when it came to her. "The saber cat cloak you are wearing on top of it."
Understanding made her flush an even prettier shade of pink. "You're...but you...well I didn't know! I asked Calder for a cloak and he showed me the ones you had placed in the wardrobe so I just grabbed one! How was I supposed to know it was that kind of cloak?!"
He smiled, feeling it safe to step closer to her. "But you still picked it, amongst all others. You wear it, in public, for all to see. You are accepting, on some level, of my intentions."
"Which are?" Her hands were on her hips and, for a brief moment, he was a child again being scolded by his mother. "You can't marry me, Ulfric. You're going to be king." He thought of her Bryn then, and if he were the reason she was so hesitant to give herself to him. The entire thought was ridiculous- a thief couldn't give her half the life the high king of Skyrim could. Ulfric just needed to convince her.
"And?" He took a stray piece of her wild hair and placed it behind her ear. Her eyes flashed in warning at him. "I'm in need of a queen, as it were. Why shouldn't it be you?"
"I'm no queen," she gasped out, trying to pull away from him. "The Moot will want-"
"Damn the Moot," he growled, drawing ever closer to her lips. "All that matters is what I want."
"P-pardon me, Jarl Ulfric, but how many settings are needed for supper tonight? I know since the attack-" If Ulfric were a more impulsive man he would've struck Jorlief the minute he interrupted them. Instead, he just glared in warning over her shoulder at him, but it was too late. The spell had been broken and she was already shoving him away.
"Attack?" While her voice was still cold, he could see the concern coloring her eyes. "In the palace?"
"It was nothing," he told her nonchalantly. The last thing he wanted was to give her more worries to carry. Best she didn't know about the Dark Brotherhood... "Someone slipped some paralysis poison into the palace mead supply. A childish prank, as it were."
"Is there anything you need from me, my jarl?" She asked him stiffly after a moment of silence. He could see she did not believe him; her doubt was written all over her face.
"Yes," he replied, equally as stern. "You will join me and the other generals for dinner tonight. Then tomorrow you will leave for Fort Hraagstad." She nodded at him. "Dismissed."
Svala would have rather plucked out all her teeth one by one than stay for dinner with Ulfric's generals. It was clear they detested her for one reason or another, over things she could not control. Angrily, she unsheathed the new sword Ulfric had given her and began hacking away at one of the training dummies located outside the palace.
"That's a mighty fine swing you have there," came the sleazy voice of Ulfric's sleaziest general from behind her. "Did your father teach you how to fight?"
She spun around to face Rorgun, pointing the tip of her sword at his throat. "No- I learned the old fashioned way, but cutting down my enemies." After a moment of watching his Adam's apple bob uncomfortably she sheathed her weapon once more.
His hands raised in surrender, a smirk she didn't care for on his face. "All the snow in Windhelm isn't as cold as your voice, Bone-Breaker. I'm just trying to be friendly, get to know my sister in arms."
She scoffed, throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the palace and shoving past Rorgun. "Oh yes, and when you had such lovely things to say about me to Ulfric as well."
"Oh please," Rorgun continued to follow her, even daring to sit next to her at the lengthy table. "It's obvious to all that our jarl is in love with you. I could've told him you were a high ranking Thalmor spy and he would still keep your confidence."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said as though Ulfric had not proposed the idea of marriage to her hours before. "I serve in the man's army, as do you. There's nothing else to tell."
"Oh really?" He took the liberty of filling the tankard in front of her with mead. "Then why are the Thalmor crawling all over Riften, searching for you?"
"I make no effort to understand the mind of the likes of them." She shrugged, staring at the empty seat at the head of the table, willing Ulfric to make a hasty appearance.
"They're offering a pretty hefty reward," he hummed, placing his hand on her bare knee. She flinched, as though he had burnt her, but remained impassive. "Maybe you could come to the rift with me, clear a few things up..." as he spoke, his fingers drifted higher and higher up her leg, until they were nearly underneath the skirt of her uniform. Bile rose up in her throat.
"I'm needed at Fort Hraagstad," she said stiffly. "Or is your memory that abysmal?"
Thankfully, Ulfric chose that moment to enter the great hall, scowling deeply at the sight of Rorgun pressed so closely to her. His hand flew off her leg as though Ulfric's look had burned him and the tightness in her chest dissipated as well. Galmar and Ysarald followed behind him, oblivious to the tension. She reached for her tankard of mead, draining it in one go.
"Please," Ulfric's deep voice reverberated from the head of the table as he motioned out in front of himself. "Eat."
They are mostly in silence, with Svala doing her best to actively ignore everyone seated at the table. Every once and a while she could feel Ulfric's intense blue gaze land on her, but whenever she would try to meet his eyes he would stare at his plate instead. It was rather infuriating, the nerve he hs to try and court her when they both knew the other jarls would not accept her. She had no family name to speak of, she had served in the Thieves Guild and committed various crimes while doing so, and she was still a wanted criminal (to the Thalmor anyhow). Even she'd admit they'd all be stupid to allow Ulfric to make her High Queen of Skyrim.
Still, the least he could do was meet her eyes in public.
"So Bone-Breaker, where did you grow up?" Rorgun, on the other hand, would not leave her alone. She glared at him with a mouth full of food, chewing as slowly as possible so she would not have to answer.
"It is Stormblade now." Ulfric's commanding voice said. Rorgun flushed and she smiled to herself.
"My mistake, my jarl," Rorgun smiled sleazily at her once more. "So Stormblade, what part of Skyrim are you from?"
"The reach," she answered tersely, taking her aggression out on a baked potato.
"The reach is lovely, you know that I-"
"I don't care," she snapped, refusing to look at him. She did notice, however, the small, approving smile on Ulfric's stoic face.
They ate in near silence after that, something which she was extremely grateful for. However, about halfway through the meal, a blinding ache in her head made her gasp and a thunderous voice spoke in her mind.
Mu los bo, dovahkiin.
"Stormblade, are you well?" Ysarald asked her kindly. Ulfric's eyes were on her too.
She stared at Rorgun's tankard of mead, watching the liquid slosh around even as it was lying undisturbedo on the table. Was it her imagination, or were there tremors...? "Do you feel that? Like the palace is shaking?" She knealt on the stone floor of the great hall, placed her ear to it...
"Stormblade what are you-"
"Dragon," she breathed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. "A dragon is coming. Straight for the city."