Ulfric was unhappy.

He had just received word from Galmar that the Emperor's cousin, of all people, was getting married in Solitude, halting his plans on taking the city. The end of the war was within his sights, so close he could taste victory, and yet he was still so far. He had toyed with the idea of moving forward anyway, but decided against it; the last thing he needed was for Cyrodiil to see him as even more of a murderer (lest there be any collateral damage). No, the best thing to do was wait.

He was also annoyed with Svala. She had left him in that hovel, his own patrol escorting him back to the palace (after receiving an eyeful of their Jarl), only to find that upon his return she had already departed for Haafingar. While she was simply following his own orders, it still bothered him that she would leave without even bidding him goodbye. To add insult to injury, he noticed that someone had slipped his amulet of Talos off his neck. While he felt a little ironic judging her for stealing from him (since he had her amulet of Mara after all), he was still irked that she had the absolute gall to actually steal from him.

He grunted to himself. He felt like a sentimental fool.

Even worse, Jorleif had interrupted court flustered. "My Jarl, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but Jarls Thongvor and Vignar have come unannounced. Will you receive them now?"

"What kind of leader allows his guests to wait out in the cold?" Ulfric snapped at his steward. "Of course I'll receive them. Send them in at once."

Jorleif nodded nervously, and moments later both jarls, along with their extensive entourages, were filling his great hall. "Ulfric!" Vignar Grey-Mane called jovially, approaching him first. "Good to see you again."

"Vignar," Ulfric greeted him politely. The man always was a blow hard. "Thongvor, welcome to Windhelm. Please, anything you require tell Jorleif and he will fetch for you."

Thongvor approached him next, clearly not taking to his new role as Jarl of Markarth as easily as Vignar had taken to his as Jarl of Whiterun. "Jarl Ulfric, thank you for your hospitality. It is an honor to be in your presence."

"For now we are equals, Thongvor. You need not address me as jarl." Besides, soon Ulfric wouldn't even be a jarl anymore- he'd be king.

The three jarls took their seats at Ulfric's long table, helping themselves to food and drink while they updated him on life in their respective holds. Vignar kept prattling on and on about building a Temple of Talos in the center of Whiterun, as though they were not still at war. "It'll rival even the Temple of the Divines when I'm done!"

"I have no doubt. Another proper temple to Talos will be good to remind others why we fight." He hoped he sounded like he cared, for he didn't. Knowing how many of his people were going hungry, mourning the loss of their loved ones, living in fear...the last thing on his mind was the building of a temple.

"Speaking of temples," Vignar continued slyly. "Have you given any thought to where your wedding will be? Torygg's was at the Temple of the Divines, as you know, but without Talos it wouldn't be a proper ceremony. Will you have it in Windhelm?"

Ulfric took a long drink of mead, trying to hide his distaste. First the Shatter-Shields, now the Gray-Manes. Soon Thongvor would be throwing a woman at him from Clan Silver-Blood. "I would first need to find a wife, Vignar."

"Oh? No one in mind?"

He narrowed his eyes at Vignar. Meddling old fool. "If there were, it would not be something I would discuss so flippantly. My affairs are my own."

"But when you're king, you'll have all of Skyrim to consider," Thongvor reminded him gravely. "Think of your legacy, your line!"

He knew neither Thongvor nor Vignar cared for the continuation of the Stormcloak line- they were just vying to align their clans with his through marriage, ensuring their ancestor a place on the throne in the future. "My affairs are my own. I will see to them once our victory is secured." Both men shared a look, which made him frown. While he didn't care about their opinions, he knew he ultimately needed their support at the Moot (whenever it would come). "Now that you have been fed, may I ask why you both made such long journeys to see me?"

"We have concerns," Thongvor began uncertainly. "There are rumors the Dark Brotherhood is back, and murders in the Reach have doubled."

"Yes," Vignar chimed in, in between bites of venison. "In Whiterun as well. Reports of assassins in black and red armor, as well as the Thalmor lurking around. You don't intend to leave your allies to the wolves, do you?"

"Of course not," Ulfric replied coldly. "I take these claims very seriously. But you must realize, my focus must be on ending this war first." He was fighting the dread that had settled within his stomach, heavy as a stone- so the Brotherhood really was back. He wasn't the only target. Was Galmar also in danger? Was Svala?

"And if we're killed in that time?" Thongvor asked flatly. "The Brotherhood cares little for the politics of Skyrim, they will not wait for the war to finish. They will kill us no matter the time."

"They will only strike unless they are paid, Thongvor." Vignar huffed, spraying bits of spittle and meat across the table. "They have a code, no matter how twisted it may be."

"So you have amassed no enemies?" Thongvor snarled at the other jarl. "I find that hard to believe."

Ulfric slapped a palm onto the wooden table top. "Enough!" He sighed, rubbing his temples. He needed votes for the Moot- Elisif would never bend the knee to him, and he was doubtful about Laila in Riften. She claimed to support him, yes, but he knew the woman to often speak out of both sides of her mouth. "I can give you a few extra men apiece for your protection. But in turn, I expect your full support when it comes time for the Moot." Thankfully, both men agreed, and the rest of the meal went on without incident. Good. He wasn't sure he could fake niceties for a moment longer by the time Vignar and Thongvor rose from his table. "Jorleif will show you to your rooms. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

While Thongvor was all too happy to find his accommodations, Vignar stayed behind (much to his immense frustration). "Ulfric, I wanted to mention my niece, Olfina, to you. In case you find yourself in need of a true Nordic wife, I can assure you, the child is a beauty and can come from no greater stock. The Gray-Manes, as you know, have been in Skyrim for nearly as long as the Stormcloaks."

Ulfric stifled a groan. "I have heard of Olfina; her brother, Thorald, is among my ranks. He says she is a great beauty, but that her heart belongs to another."

Vignar made a sound of disgust. "She thinks herself in love with a milk-drinking Imperial supporter Battle-Born, but given the chance to be Queen of Skyrim...well, I dare say, no woman would refuse such an honor. I can have her in the city within a fortnight should it please you."

He could feel a headache brewing behind his eyes. No, it would not please him to have a stranger throwing himself at him in hopes of becoming queen. In fact, the only woman he wanted to throw herself at him was the only woman in all of Tamriel, it seemed, who was not interested in taking the crown. "Not now, Vignar. I would hate to make a woman travel such a perilous journey in the midst of a war. Should I require to see her, I will send for her in due time."

With a sleazy grin and confirmation from Vignar, he was off to find his own chambers. Ulfric let out a sigh in relief, sinking into his throne. The sooner Svala came around to his attentions, the better. He was sick of fending off potential suitors.

While Svala remained skeptical that her Argonian guide was not about to attempt to murder her, she still found herself following him outside of Solitude and down to the docks. Besides, she reasoned with herself, if he did try to harm her, she figured she could always Shout him to death. There were enough sloping cliffs around...or she could always roast the lizard alive...

"We're almost there," he spoke to her, drawing her out of her murderous thoughts. "I promise this will be worth the trouble."

"Oh yeah?" She asked with a snort as they found themselves entering an East Empire warehouse. "Please tell me there's a large sack of gold waiting for me for my trouble."

The Argonian's silence spoke volumes. She sighed loudly to voice her frustration.

They wound around various shelves stacked to the ceiling with crates and chests, until he led her into a shallow pool of water underneath the wooden platforming. "Just through here, my lady." She stopped, her fingers floating above the hilt of her sword. Her guide stopped, looked over his shoulder to see her hesitation, and smiled warmly at her. "I swear no harm will come to you, my lady. You are amongst friends."

"I've heard that before," she muttered under her breath. "And somehow I still ended up in Thalmor custody." She unsheathed her sword, keeping the ebony blade pointed at the Argonian's back. "You'll go first."

He made no argument, leading her through a hidden door. The pair made there way through a grotto teeming with bandit traders, which instantly sent her on edge. The last thing she needed was to be abducted by the same group of bandits that had bought her from her parents all those years ago. Finally, he stopped in front of a small table where one of the chairs was already occupied by a woman wearing Guild armor. Her face was obscured. "Svala," she said, raising her head to meet Svala's eyes. "It's so good to finally meet you. Brynjolf has told me so much about you." Her attention turned to the Argonian at her side. "Thank you, Gulum-Ei. I can take it from here." With a nod, Gulum-Ei (as his name apparently was) departed.

She studied the Dunmer thief carefully, taking note of the woman's striking violet eyes. "You must be Karliah," she said, putting her sword back in its sheath. "Sorry Bryn sent you all the way to Cyrodiil to find me."

Karliah pushed the empty chair out to her with her foot, motioning for her to sit. "I owed him a few favors, as it were, so no harm done. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

She shook her head to both. "I'm more curious as to why I'm here. Your...associate dragged me out of the Skeever in Solitude, and there will be others wondering where I've gone."

"Galmar Stone-Fist?" Her elven host said with a smirk, demurely sipping her goblet of wine. "Oh yes, I'm aware of your...political agenda. And while I don't know how you can give your life for someone who supports death for all non-Nords..." she trailed off, her dark cheeks flushed with anger. "Anyway, I digress. I'm here to collect you for Brynjolf."

"'Collect' me?" She frowned at Karliah. "I don't understand. Is Bryn alright? Is he in trouble?"

"Nothing of the sort," she answered quickly. "He has just asked me to accompany you back to Riften."

"I can't go to Riften," Svala barked a laugh. "I'm in the middle of war. Ulfric expects me to-"

"Do you know," Karliah began, cutting her off swiftly. "That Ulfric had Brynjolf imprisoned in Windhelm? And that the Great 'Bear of Markarth' still breathes only due to the accuracy of my arrow?"

She felt rage douse her body as though she had a bucket of icy water thrown over her. "He did what?" She snarled. Of course Ulfric had conveniently forgotten to tell her about that particular detail. She gripped his amulet in her pocket so tightly the stones cut grooves into her palm. "For no reason?"

Karliah shrugged. "It matters not the reason. All you need to know is that Ulfric had no intention of releasing Brynjolf and I had to go and collect his sorry arse. During which time, the Dark Brotherhood tried to murder the illustrious Jarl of Windhelm, and as much as I'd like to see the bastard dead, I'd rather not have him painted as a martyr, so I killed the assassin," she sighed deeply, looking much older in the dim torchlight. "And now the Brotherhood is nearly at war with the Guild, it's taken all of Delvin's charisma to keep them at bay. Brynjolf was concerned for your safety and wanted you back within the city so that he can keep an eye on you personally. And well," she motioned around the damp and dark grotto. "Here we are."

Svala's head was spinning. While there were several fundamental differences between the Guild and the Brotherhood, she had never known them to be enemies. This was bad indeed. "I can take care of myself," she blurted out to Karliah. "I'm sure Bryn told you about me."

"I know you're the Dragonborn," Karliah nodded. "But no one else in the Guild does. After Mercer..." a flicker of rage danced across her face. "You're wanted, you know? The Thalmor are looking for you. But since the Guild is back at full strength, we've managed to keep them off your tail." The for now at the end of that particular sentence was not spoken, but Svala still felt its impact all the same. "We have a ship waiting, we'll smuggle you in the cargo hold until we reach Riften. We can leave tonight, by the time your brothers-in-arms realize you're gone, it will be too late."

"You want me to defect," Svala echoed, her head still spinning. While the idea was tempting, to leave bloody battles and the horrors of war behind, to find herself again in Brynjolf's arms, to take him up on his offer and become his wife... she couldn't do it. She had sworn an oath to Ulfric, after all, and she was nothing without her word. "I can't. I swore an oath to Ulfric. I can't just disappear on him." Besides, she knew he would never let her go and would chase her across all of Tamriel if that's what it took. "I can't."

"Are you in love with him? Ulfric?" Karliah asked her with a tiny smirk. "I doubt he would waste his time with a lowly thief masquerading as a bard if he were not so enamored with you. Do you reciprocate?"

Was she? "I...I...that's none of your concern!" She snapped, hoping Karliah couldn't see her flush in the dark. "Tell Bryn I'll meet him in Riften the second the war is over. I swear."

The Dunmer hummed thoughtfully. "He's given me a letter for you, though he told me to tell you to read it privately." Her flush only deepened, imagining what contents the letter held. "He will be disappointed, you know. He loves you deeply."

Svala sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

Karliah stood and she followed her lead. "Do you know how to return to the docks? Or shall I have Gulum-Ei escort you back?"

"I can manage," she muttered, her head still swimming with all the information Karliah had presented her with. Still, the more she thought, the more she realized that this was an opportunity she could not just let pass by... "But before I go, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a job. For the Guild."

The elf's head cocked at that. "I'm listening."

"There's old Dwemer ruins not far from here, Alftand?" Karliah nodded in comprehension. "I need you to steal something for me from there and then keep it in the Guild vault until I come to collect it."

"I'm guessing this isn't any old trinket," Karliah answered her slyly. "And those Dwemer ruins are serious business. Care to tell me what I'll be pinching?"

She paused for a second, unsure if it were wise to tell her. However, if Brynjolf trusted Karliah so implicitly, she felt it was safe to trust her as well. "An Elder Scroll."

Karliah's mouth fell open and she took her seat once more. Svala followed suit, seated across from her again. "Tell me everything," the thief breathed, her violet eyes gleaming with the promise of adventure and riches.