THE PALACE OF THE KINGS
The Dragonborn
The hum in the air is deafening. She can't keep her head up above her hands as Ulfric prattles on about some nonsense. It's been this way ever since the fool, Galmar returned from Korvanjund. She tries to focus again on what's coming out of his boisterous mouth. But she can't quite make it.
"Lively! Large and menacing! That's how it was, by the gods Ulfric, you should have seen her! You should have seen how she took down those bastards one by one! I never would have dreamed of a soldier like that!"
"Yes, Galmar. I hear she is quite the sight to see." Ulfric keeps turning the Jagged Crown in his hands, looking for any marks or scratches that might have come upon it.
Her head buzzes. She winces with it. It's like something is breaking through her thoughts. Not with clarity or calmness, but like a barreling battering ram into her mind. "Ulfric, excuse me. I must freshen up." She lays a hand on him. He barely nods to her, still absorbed in the praise Galmar heaps on the bitch in chains.
She trembles as she exits the room and enters the hallway leading down to the dungeons. The buzzing and pain are enough to trip her up. She clutches the grimy wall before snaking her hands along the cobblestone. Something is happening.
She can feel it in her chest. Like a wound re-opening to show all it's fresh contents. By the gods, she can feel every slice that bitch put into her heart. It's them.
The Night Mother races down the walkway with that realization. Something is happening in the depths of this Palace. When she breaks through into the dungeon, she snaps her fingers. The guards give her bewildered looks.
She grinds her teeth, of course they wouldn't know her signal. "Leave me with the prisoner. I need a word with her."
"The wolf? Why she did an amazing job today!" The guard's praises are cut short when the Night Mother slaps her hand across his face to keep him from talking. It does little with the helmet he has on. "Leave me. Now!" she yells at them.
They don't need another word to send them away. Her agitation was enough. They tuck tail and race out of the room, leaving the Night Mother with her prey.
She stalks over to the bars of the cage. The woman is still wild looking, still has an unfocused gaze of the wolf, still has claws to slash through her face if she wished. With her snow-drenched, and ruffled hair, the woman looks up and smiles at the Night Mother.
She screams. Her outburst allows her to break the cage door without a key and soon she has the girl by the neck. "What is it you are doing? Are you speaking to them?" The Night Mother snarls in her face.
The woman just laughs, weakly, "No. Why would you say that?"
"Because I can feel them." She throws the woman to the ground. Wishes to stomp her head in before incinerating her to ash. The woman scrambles back on hands and feet, anything to get away from the supposed monster in front of her.
"What are you hiding? How have you contacted them? What have you found?" All those barraging questions come from the seed of paranoia, and it has certainly taken root. "Tell me!" She raises her hand to send sparks over the woman. It worked with Eve, and it shall work with her…
"Night Mother." Ulfric snaps from the doorway. She turns her head; her panting and the wolf's panting are the only sound in the room.
"What in Talos's name are you doing?" Ulfric demands. The two tattle-tale guards stand behind him with an angered Galmar.
"Do not touch her." He says behind Ulfric, "Gods knows how much money we spent on her."
The Night Mother can't stop the humming. Her breathing. She barely has another thought for the pretty penny the Brotherhood had taken after they traded septims for the wolf. The transaction was completed before the battle in Sovngarde. Babette did well, but not well enough. The woman still breathes and is up to something.
"She's trying to kill me." The Night Mother lets out.
"Kill you? It looks the other way around." Ulfric steps into the room. "Why don't you come out from there, dear? You know how good she is for the cause. She got the Jagged Crown back and we need her for the next few days."
"Why is that?" The Night Mother can't stop glaring at the wolf. She has a small, very miniscule smirk on her face, she knows it. The wolf just turns her head away from the prying eyes.
"Because of this." Ulfric holds it up. The Night Mother snaps all her attention to what is in his hands. His axe. "It was brought to me by one of my men this morning. The Jarl of Whiterun does not side with us."
It took some convincing but now they are in the war room arguing up a storm. The Night Mother couldn't believe it at first, until she reasoned with herself. Jarl Balgruuf seemed a cowardly man and would no doubt side with the Imperials, who he thought had far greater strength. Even after their weakened state from the numerous battles with the Dark Brotherhood.
If only the man had seen her talk down to General Tullius on the Throat of the World. He might have chosen the better option then. "Why not go to the heart while they are distracted?" She interjects, yet again.
Ulfric gives her a look of bewilderment over the map of Skyrim he is keen on. "Because that is a fool's errand, you think they would leave their only secured Hold defenseless? Even with the Dark Brotherhood there, they are certainly sending all their manpower to Solitude as we speak."
"Ulfric is right. They will do anything to protect their backs up there. We need to corner them first." The gravelly voice of Galmar sounds.
"I did not ask you." She snaps, "What is the worry over all these Holds? Why not strike while they are down? They can't do a damn thing about it. I assure you, I told General Tullius as much on the Throat of the World. He fears me."
"I don't think he knows you're alive." Ulfric moves his hand over all the Holds they currently have. "And, it is not a matter of taking the capital. That is not how you win a war. If we went directly for Solitude, the Empire would cower in further Holds and rally more men to take us down. We need most of the Province."
She's seething but he is right. If any Imperials and Thalmor are scrounging around then they will no doubt try to advance on her again. "Very well, what of the other Holds? Which do we need to continue this little game?"
His dark eyes search hers before he addresses both her and Galmar. "The Empire thinks it holds Falkreath from us. But the souls of Skyrim's bravest are buried there."
She was going to mention there is not much to a corpse after death. But she was not one to talk.
"Furthermore, Whiterun is a perfect location. It's the Hold in the center of the Province don't you know it?" Galmar laughs, "My men are the toughest sons of bitches Skyrim has to offer, I have no doubt they will be able to take Whiterun in the next few days."
Ulfric nods, "We need this Galmar. It was high time for Jarl Balgruuf to make up his mind."
"Eh, and what about you? Why was Whiterun so elusive?" Galmar slides his slate-colored eyes to the Night Mother.
She is boiling enough she wishes to tear his lips from his mouth. Instead, she answers, "Because dragons and others were conspiring against me. Trust me, when I say that your enemies are nothing compared to what the gods and Princes have deemed 'worthy'." She smiles, "However, keep an eye over your shoulder. I would not be surprised with my allegiance to you if some of my enemies come for your head."
Galmar just sneers, "I'll be off Ulfric, I need to feed the wolves downstairs and get them ready for Whiterun."
"Go. Speak to me tonight when you are done. I need to think over where is best to advance on the city. They have those walls up, barricading the whole place."
"It's what walls are for." The Night Mothers says. She keeps her eyes on Ulfric. It seems to bother Galmar based on his body language, but he doesn't stick around to question it.
Ulfric sighs softly. He bows his head. "Who knew war would be so taxing on the mind? And I am not even one of the poor souls to walk into battle."
She moves over to him with the grace of a dancer. Her hands curl around his shoulders. "You do have a lot of tension." She tsks, then begins to knead his tightened muscles, "You have fed well?"
"For the most part. I guess we can feed tonight in my chambers. If you wish." He raises his eyes and she sees something in them. A childish, boyish, sort of hopefulness. How silly. She smiles, "I would love that. I have business to attend to first."
"You brought an associate here?" He asks.
She briefly wonders if Cicero ever got out of that temple alive. "No. Not that I know of. I need to send letters." She pauses in the doorway. "And Ulfric? Do not worry about not being the in the thick of the fight. There is a reason we sit in the shadows at the helm of it all. We are too important to risk injury." She thinks on her own scars. "If I had a second chance, I would either have let my Brotherhood do all the dirty work with the dragons, or I would have gone straight to the heart of it."
"Like a bull in a glass ware shop." He gives a meek smile, "I wondered why you were so adamant to get into Solitude. I thought it was solely for your Castle."
"That. Among other things. They cornered me at my weakest Ulfric." She runs her hand down the collar of her dress. It was not high necked in the slightest. His eyes graze where her hand leaves the trail.
"That mark was from the dragon?" He gasps. Even from clear across the room he can see the reddened scars crisscrossing her heart.
"No. If I would have you know, it was from the coveted wolf downstairs. I'll see you for dinner." She doesn't wait for a reply. It would seem too obtuse if she did, as if she were waiting for a response from him. She keeps her wits about her and returns to her room to write a letter. Ulfric did have a few good pieces of advice with him. If one were using their time to convince someone of something, then it was best to play the long game.
Babette.
I hope to leave this retched Palace soon enough. I fear the floor of my bedroom may crumble at any given moment. Galmar is taking the lead and should have Balgruuf's head by the end of the week. This will leave a great opening for Whiterun. I am hoping to keep Ulfric good and subdued so he doesn't know what's happening. My goal is to root out the Imperials and Thalmor. I will keep an eye on the Stormcloaks for any sign of betrayal. I fear there will be some who do not agree with my alliance.
Keep your eyes out. As I've heard from Ulfric, the Thalmor and Imperials are infesting the northeastern Hold as we speak. They expect an ambush. Do not let them breach the Castle. I expect you to defend it with your life.
-Mother
The ink is just drying enough for the courier to send it to Solitude. She leans her head back to get some peace. Some quiet. That relentless humming is back. It's like an insect buzzing in her ear. Her eyes open and she nearly breaks the quill into two.
With her stronger hearing she can sift past the annoyance and soon she hears arguing downstairs. Jarl Ulfric's right hand buffoon is trying to feed the wolves. She would go down there this very instant but needs to remain hidden from him. She doesn't like the looks he gives her.
If it were up to her, she'd have his head on a spit. But that would not bring Ulfric to her side. Instead, she decides it's time to retire early for the evening.
The Night Mother glides to the impossibly large wardrobe on the side of the room. Ulfric had it outfitted with whatever clothing she wished. She purses over the drably colored dresses, clothing for fighting and ruling, and comes across a very flimsy, see through, and low-cut mint green dress. If one would call it that. It was a barely veiled gown that would leave little to the imagination.
Very well, she shall don this and see how the man in the war room takes to it. When she slips out of her gown to put this green drapery over her, she has to pause. The buzzing is back along with a minor headache. Nothing she couldn't handle.
When she was good and presentable, for closed doors, she combs her hair. In the vanity mirror she scours for any delicate gems to line her neck with. The various jewelry, including the crown, she had for resurrection have no more practical use and are more of a statement. So, they sit on the side of the vanity. She chooses a dainty diamond to complement her scar right above her heart. Below that, the dress dips to her wonderfully placed cleavage and beyond. She moves her hair this way and that. Trying to decide how best to part it. How did one make a sultry looking hairdo that didn't scream out her intentions for the night?
When it came to her makeup, she was an expert at it and slowly painted her face to fit one of perfection. She will have Babette to thank for this. The girl was the one to kill this Nord in the fields. Without this kind of beauty things might be…harder? Easier? If she were in the body of a man, would she merely have to intimidate to get what she wants? Not have to wait, hold her tongue, and pry at it so slowly and painstakingly?
She was lucky she had a reputation. Without it she would be nothing here. No one would cower. They might be more like that buffoon in the Thalmor party who dared to touch her. They might order her around like a glorified serving maid. That very well could have been her position at this time.
She rises when it is complete. Her grin is fierce, not something a sweet, young thing should have when trying to seduce a Jarl. But she tries. The halls are quiet when she sneaks out. Darkness has come early with the receding days. Servants have gone to sleep or clean. Guards stay at attention. Galmar is no doubt ordering them around. When he was gone, she could deal with everything downstairs.
She knocks softly on his chamber doors. She hears his heart beating strongly. It increases in frequency when he comes to open it. "You're here. I thought you might get lost." His hair is a little disheveled as if her were running his hand through too often.
"Don't be coy, of course I know where it is, it's the bed chamber at the end of the hall and the only one to be raised over the others."
Ulfric laughs softly, "It keeps the assassins away."
"But not dragons. No, you are a sitting duck up here Ulfric, however shall we handle this?" She glides in the room and notices his long look at her cascading gown.
"I have the Dragonborn with me. I shall be safe." He gestures to the small table filled with various meats, pastries, and vegetables. Disgusting. She spies a goblet filled to the brim with blood and sits to delicately sip from it.
Ulfric sits across from her, the glow from the candlelight leaves his face in sharp planes and shadows. Enticing. "Would you care for some wine?" He asks her.
"No. I prefer my blood but thank you for your kindness." She smiles behind her drink.
He goes to pour himself some. Good. He has the whole bottle to drink by himself. "Make sure to finish it quickly. It's not common knowledge but that brand of wine spoils so fast." She tells him.
He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so? I never heard of such a thing. Most people prefer to age it. Centuries if they could, to get this kind of taste."
She rolls her eyes, "Trust me, Ulfric, I've been in Cyrodiil for a long time I would know a thing or two about wine from that province."
Ulfric gives her a wistful look before diving into his food. "How was it there? I heard in the old ages it was something to behold."
"You mean before the Imperials decided to expand?" She asks dryly, "It is a proud province, with many people to defend it. However, they were little help when Bravil was raided and I had to be moved."
"Moved?" His eyes widen. Her fingers curl in on themselves. She nearly broke the mirage. She knows that he has knowledge of her time in her decaying body, but he seems to have forgotten when he's around her. It's almost as if her beauty can throw a blinder on him and make him forget she only snatched this body up from the fields.
"A long time ago. But tell me, Ulfric, how are you taking this war? You seem to be a very passionate man who wants his province back but what starts that burning desire?"
His eyes turn hard. He glares at the dinner roll he is ripping up. At first, she thinks she made a mistake in trying to distract him with this subject but then, he talks, "To see a man die before you, not one but many. It leaves a mark. Their wives and children will have nothing more but a memory. And the only thing to come of it when they return home is to find a province full of strangers wearing familiar faces. The Empire is too weak to rule these people, the people have debts, it's left them impoverished. And the Empire brands them criminals when the people say they want to rule themselves. Who wants to live in a world like that? They truly see all Nords as a race to conquer." His eyes lock with hers. She sees that familiar fire underneath them.
"I can understand that. I have seen their rule." She takes another sip of her drink.
"And you know the Thalmor have just been biding their time. You know they're using the Imperials as puppets, wearing them down. The White-Gold Concordat never favored the Empire, and they were too greedy or blinded to see it. This province should never have been invaded."
"Your glass is getting empty." She reaches across the way to pour him more of the wine, "If you think of it in a more…positive light, I'm certain without Imperial influences Skyrim would have trailed behind the Empire with all their advancements in knowledge and technology." She jests.
Ulfric seems to smirk, "And you think we would not have just taken in the Dwemer artifacts, technology, and prestige and found a way to utilize it for ourselves?"
"You would seek out those ruins when the best of their treasures lay to waste in Morrowind?" She counters.
He laughs, takes a drink, then she watches his smile fade, "In all seriousness, the Aldmeri Dominion would have won out eventually. The Thalmor have no intentions of stopping their tyranny over men. It was only a matter of time."
"I suppose so. If one were a realist." She swirls her goblet around before drinking it. She watches over the rim as he finishes his second drink and starts in on his third.
"What of you? What makes you fight? What makes you want to take the Children of Skyrim under your wing before spreading over Tamriel? I must say, it is ambitious."
She smiles politely, "What I said on the Throat of the World is accurate. I have no intention of killing people. I want them to live full lives I just want their souls to be in the right place."
"With Sithis?" He asks over his own drink. "Tell me, what makes him a better choice than Talos?"
She nearly breaks her goblet with the direction this conversation is headed. "He cares for his children greatly." Is all she says before setting her goblet down and slowly removing some of the elaborate jeweled clips from her hair. It falls in cascading ringlets down her shoulders. "Forgive me, these things are quite…confining."
He finishes his third drink. There's enough wine for one more. "Would you like to be somewhere more comfortable?" He asks.
She hides her wolfish smile. He's so easy to prod along. "Yes, please…the bed, perhaps?"
"Go right ahead. I'll be there soon." He finishes his drink within the minute.
She languidly rises from her seat and moves with such grace to the foot of the bed. It's a tall thing, covered in green and gold embroidered quilts and held up on a pedestal. It is large enough for four people if one wished. She sits down before laying back, letting her hair splay around her. Her diamond necklace falls so it sits further up her throat. She rests her eyes until she feels the weight of Ulfric on the other side of the bed.
She lays in silence. The way her dress falls over her body is no doubt showing all her curves and displaying far more than would be modest. He is taking his time drinking her in. "Forgive me, I've been so stressed." She hears him whisper.
"Do you need more relief?" Her eyes open, and in the darker part of the room her pupils are widened. Enough for him to believe the façade of innocence. "Would you lay down, next to me?"
His body shifts so they now lay parallel to one another. "I never asked, but what made you kiss me in the banquet hall that day?"
Her eyes flutter but maybe she is laying it on too thick. She tracks her gaze on him. "I merely needed relief too. And what better way than to use the handsome man next to me?"
It must have been the alcohol, maybe that's when he finally recognized all her signs she so blatantly put out. He finally leans over to give her another searing kiss. She pulls him down to her, curling her fingers through his ever-lengthening hair. He moans when she moves just so her legs curl around him.
His lips move against her. Who knew the son of the Bear of Eastmarch was as perfect a kisser as one could ask for? He glides from her bottom lip to her top, never stopping. She feels the hunger in him. To aid his appetite she moves so her dress begins to slip.
"It's been a long time since I laid with someone." She mentions.
"Is that so? Is that what you wish for tonight?" He trails his lips down her jaw before descending further to her neck and chest.
"If you would wish…" She pushes his head lower, down to the straining parts of fabric keeping the rest of her body in. "I have a request though."
His hands begin to roam the rest of her. Melding into her curves before plunging below the fabric itself. He's less coordinated. He must be more drunk than she thought. His mouth moves low enough to free some of the tightened fabric before he answers. "Yes?"
She moves her legs to keep her centered where he would be most enticed. He breathes out heavily. He is certainly not in his right mind. "I want some of your men for my Brotherhood."
He doesn't even pause to consider, just roams his hand relentlessly on her now bared skin. Her dress comes free with a quick snag of his teeth. He sinks into her skin, and she allows it. "Yes, whatever you wish." He murmurs against her flesh.
She grins. "Over half your men. When all is said and done, and Solitude is taken once and for all. They must pledge allegiance to me."
He stops his quick hands to begin and undress himself. It's quick but inefficient movements to free his skin to her. When the flesh of his chest and lower body is borne to the moonlight streaming through the window, he smiles down at her. A drunken, albeit sweet smile.
"Whatever you ask for my queen. My men will be yours."
The moon had fallen, the sun will rise in a few hours, but this will ensure no one is awake. Lest the caveman of a right hand is down prowling the dungeons. The Night Mother slipped from the large bed to quickly clothe herself. Ulfric was sound asleep. He should remain that way for some time to come.
Her footsteps are quick. She makes it to the hall and down to the dungeons in record time. No one sees her shadow pass by. She keeps a hand to her chest. It was a fulfilling few hours with the Jarl if she would say so, but her main goal was securing those men for her forces. She cared very little about the way he kissed her and the gentleness he used when roaming her flesh.
She was just glad he was sound asleep when her chest opened up. The deepening wound was festering with some black substance. At first, she thought her heart would explode but nothing came to be. It was slowly healing. She kept her hand over it to keep the contents from spilling out. If they could.
She grinds her teeth when she sees the two guards by either door. One to the bitch who stabbed her and the other to the wolf she calls a lover. "Leave." The Night Mother commands them. They give her blank looks of confusion, one that most prey had when under a vampire's thrall. It was harder to use this method and easier for company to see when they were about. So, she was discreet.
With the hall now vacant, she cuts the lock and slams open the door to the cage of the lover. He raises his head from sleep. He's covered in hide armor now and has a meek little bed in the corner. How precious.
"What's going on?" He begins. The Night Mother just races to the side of the room and snatches him by the hair.
"You scream, make any sound, or try anything with me, I will have you watch as I cut the heart out of the White Wolf." She sneers in his ear.
He nods softly. A smart man.
She nearly drags him across the hall to the other side of the room where the woman resides. She bursts open the lock and almost throws the man in. But she needs her bargaining chip.
The woman was sitting with her back to the wall, arms curled around her legs, and head resting on her knees. She is jarred awake. "What? What are you doing?" Her voice is panicked.
The Night Mother just shoves the other wolf in front of her and has a quick blade to his neck. She found this in Ulfric's rooms and thought he wouldn't mind her borrowing it. "Tell me what you know about the Princes. What is going on?" She commands the girl.
She just stares at them in horror. "Princes? I know nothing."
"Liar. Something is happening."
"No! I swear it. I haven't been able to see them." She lies through her teeth again. The knife slides closer to the wolf's neck. "Why are you so concerned?" He has the balls to ask her.
She just thrusts the man ahead of her to show her chest to the wolf on the other side of the room. The girl has saucer-like eyes. "The wound is opening." The Night Mother tells her slowly, so she will understand. "Now tell me what you have seen."
The girl is trembling, but she speaks. "I've seen one Prince. Nocturnal. She walks in the shadows, literally made of shadows herself. She tries to speak to me, but I feel it is all in my head. They shouldn't be here, should they?"
No. Her initiates should have secured that. And if anything were amiss, she knew Babette was competent enough to handle it. "They aren't. Are you tampering with something?" She growls over the lover's shoulder.
The girl hasn't moved from her position, not once. "No. Now let him go."
"Why? So you can cut me again? I know you still have those Artifacts with you."
"I don't. They're gone. I can't access them. It's like they disappeared right along with the Princes." The woman keeps staring at the Night Mother but in other areas besides her face, "And the poor girl, you desecrate her body further by using it for your own pleasure?"
"It was not for pleasure. It was to secure something." The Night Mother growls.
Banging comes from the other side of the room. She glances over her shoulder to hear him. "Damn things. We need to get to the brothers and get the wolves on the front-line tomorrow. I need them up in an hour's time." Galmar bumbles around servants no doubt rising early enough for breakfast.
Her time is waning. Ulfric, even in his new blissful state, would not take well to this sort of disturbance. The Night Mother slides her eyes back to the wolf huddled against the wall. "I must go but rest assured, I will find out what you're hiding." She moves with the other wolf in her arms.
"I'll investigate. Maybe there is something to my power." The woman replies. Not in a snide remark, but a statement.
The Night Mother cannot ponder this further. She slips out of the room and shoves the man into his own cell. A servant just rounds the corner when she puts the locks on the doors. The girl yelps, nearly throwing the tray of raw meat she was carrying.
"Excuse me." The Night Mother says, she stares deep into the servant's eyes and wills her to follow her lead, "You never saw me."
She turns the corner and sees no one else but Galmar himself. He takes a gander at her ruffled clothing before wincing when he finds her eyes. "What are you doing down here?"
"Making sure things are right. And yourself?" She replies coolly. She could use her coercion on him, but it was waning. She needed rest with this new scar in her chest.
"Rounding up my men. These wolves are my most prized possessions, so I won't have you tampering with them. Did you?" He shoots back quickly.
She just strides past him and pats him on the shoulder, "I came down here at Ulfric's request, he was quite tired." She lets the statement and its implications hang in the air. It's not until his mouth opens that she sees he finally understands.
Everything all but forgotten, she makes her way back to the Jarl's quarters. Sometimes running into flustered maids and stern yet appraising guards, but never stopped again. When she slips back into bed, unclothed, and arms wrapped around the Jarl, she allows herself a moment of peace.
When she wakes, she will send another letter to Babette. To make sure the moondial is in the correct position and with all the pieces put into place. Then, tomorrow she will bide her time until Whiterun falls. Maybe, the man next to her will surprise her and they'll have the province by month's end in their hands. One could only hope. In the meantime, she will need to come up with a contingency plan. With such a sprawling ambition of taking all the Holds nearly at once, something was bound to go wrong.
Observations on day 3
I wish to record this in a kinder manner, with a proper journal, but I have nothing else to write in. I saw this journal fall out of the jester man's clothing, so I thought it would be wise to write down everything I have seen. He shouldn't mind it, since I am the man keeping him safe. I will just remove these pages when the observations are complete.
The vampire and Teldryn ran off days ago, leaving me with this very healthy Nord and a waif of an Imperial in jester clothing. They just changed over into the state of a vampire and are now using their newfound strength to construct another temple.
It's so interesting to watch them go about it. It's like they have no free-will of their own. Eyes vacant and unseeing. They know what to do though. A fair amount has been built in the last few days. The jester is making good use of his hammer and constructing the lower section of the first dome. The Nord is aiding him by bringing him supplies. The others work around them. I have not discerned yet if they are coordinated with one another or merely getting out of the vampires' way. I know I would want to stay as far away from them based on how Eve was acting towards us.
Nefarious creatures, vampires. I have the guards giving a steady supply of blood to the new fledgings. They haven't escaped their trance to kill anyone yet. I will keep my eye on them and make sure this is the case until they are good enough to walk around society unhindered by their cravings.