"I hate this," Ulfric grumbled to his reflection, adjusting the straps on his armor. The Palace below was a flurry of activity, preparing for the celebratory feast mere hours away.

"It is a necessary part of kingship, my lord." Jorlief chuckled, draping his fur cloak over his shoulders. "The people want to celebrate your victory with you. You can't deny them that chance."

Ulfric growled low under his breath but said nothing. He knew Jorlief was right, of course- feasts were part of the territory. He remembered accompanying his father and mother to some in Solitude when he was just a boy...his father had been a lot like he was now, he supposed. Stiff and uncomfortable, wishing he was doing almost anything else. His mother had been the one to play the part, all dazzling smiles and witty remarks. He wished he had someone like her by his side to humanize him, like she had done for his father.

Perhaps that was why he had Elisif with him.

He had left Galmar in Solitude as acting Jarl until he could name a proper replacement. Galmar had all by chewed his ear off when he had told him of his plans, complaining that his place was on a battlefield and not "playing nurse maid to a bunch of nobles". Still, it wasn't as though he could trust Elisif after what she had done...leaving all the displaced jarls in her palace? Allowing them to take contracts out on his life? Part of him still wondered if he should kill her for it, but her embarrassment and misery were just so...delicious.

"My king? Did you hear me?"

Jorlief's timid voice broke him out of his thoughts. "What is it?"

"Will Lady Elisif be accompanying you to the feast?" His steward was wringing his hands nervously, refusing to meet his eyes.

He snorted. Like Elisif deserved that honor. "No. Her presence here is one of necessity, not pleasure. Lady Stormblade will have that honor." Even if Svala wasn't as talented as his mother at diplomacy, he still could not picture any other woman in Tamriel by his side. Besides, worst case scenario, she would make a bigger fool of herself than he would and they could both make a quick escape and end the evening in his bed.

Jorlief gulped. "Of course, my king. I didn't mean anything by it, I just...well..."

He turned to face the other man, glaring down at him. "I don't have all night, Jorlief. What is it?"

"Are you sure she'll come?" Jorlief asked bluntly. "Lady Stormblade is not one for the spotlight. There is a chance she'll refuse your invitation."

Ulfric frowned. Jorlief made a good point. Even though he had asked (ordered) her to come, she was thickheaded. There was a very good chance she had already left the city.

But she wouldn't do that to him...would she?

He clapped a large hand on Jorlief's shoulder before exiting his chambers. He needed to see that Elisif was presentable before he paraded her around like the dog she was. He rapped on her chamber door before pushing it open with more force than necessary. Elisif was seated on the bed, still wearing her gown from the day previous, the gown he had sent her for the feast draped untouched on a nearby chair. "You're not ready."

Her head snapped up to glare at him, her eyes full of hatred. "I'm not going."

Within two paces he was before her, grabbing her chin in his hands. "Oh but you are. Have you forgotten just who," his thumb pressed down hard on her swollen eye, causing her to hiss in pain. "Is in charge here? Or shall I remind you again?"

"Let go," she mumbled, eyes wide with fear. "I'll do whatever you ask, I promise. Just let me go."

His other hand come up to stoke her hair, patronizingly, like he would a dog. "Good girl. Now you're learning." She gasped for air as though she had been drowning as he released her, grabbing the dress from the chair and throwing it at her. "Now dress. Have a chambermaid apply rouge to your wounds. We don't want to worry the guests, do we?"

For a moment she glared at him, eyes still wide and fists clenched. However, after a few tense moments, she relented with a tight nod. Still, he would not leave. "Well? I'm waiting."

"I'm not dressing in front of you." Elisif told him coldly. "I'll wear your damn dress and attend your stupid feast, but I'm not a plaything for your amusement. I-"

"Am my prisoner." He finished for her, arching an eyebrow at her surprise. "What? You thought differently?" She said nothing. "I hold your life in my hands, Elisif the Fair. You'd do well to remember that." A few more tense moments passed between them as they each stared the other down. "I'm not a patient man, Elisif. I'm still waiting."

He watched her gulp before removing her dress in one go, letting the fine fabric pool around her ankles, leaving her bare in front of him. Her nipples pebbled in the cool air but she made no move to cover herself. Her pale skin was free from scars and looked soft as silk. Maybe he could find some use for her after all...

"Thank Talos you're pretty." He told her cruelly before leaving her alone, letting the door slam shut.

"I hate this," Svala groused to Calder as he helped lace her into her gown. "Are you sure I can't just wear some really nice armor?"

"I'm sure," Calder chuckled before spinning her by the shoulders to face him. "Sofie did a nice job with your hair."

She rolled her eyes. "Little witch. I thought she was scalping me." Not to mention it had taken ages for the elaborate braided loops Sofie had managed to sculpt her unruly hair into to manifest. She grunted in agreement.

"Nervous?" Her housecarl asked her with a small smile.

"I'm the Dragonborn." she replied bluntly. "I'm not nervous about some dumb feast." She lied. In truth, she would rather face down Alduin naked than parade around the palace like a glorified doll.

Calder smiled kindly at her. "You look beautiful, thane." He brought her over to the mirror, allowing her to see for herself.

Svala almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.

Her face was clean, actually clean (for once), free from dirt and blood. It made her green eyes appear almost luminous in the candle light. Without the usual bulky armor obscuring her body, the soft curves of her figure were evident in the midnight blue gown she was wearing. Her auburn hair was elegantly piled on top of her head in a series of complicated loops and knots.

"I guess it'll do," she muttered to herself. She left Calder in her bedroom to stroll downstairs before he could correct her. However, she came to an abrupt halt when she saw Sofie curled up in a ball on her bed, crying softly. "Sofie? What's wrong?"

"I'm...I'm bleeding. I think I'm sick," she whimpered refusing to meet Svala's eyes. "I- I don't want to die, Mala." She followed the child's eyes to a small pool of blood near her midsection.

"Hush," she said, trying to arrange herself next to Sofie on the tiny bed (which was no small feat given the gown she was wearing). "You're not going to die. You just got your blood is all. It means you're a woman now."

Watery brown eyes met hers with a miserable wail. "But I don't want to be a woman!"

Svala smiled. She had remembered feeling a similar way when her own blood first arrived- although she had been in a bandit camp and had to hide it to prevent them from taking her at the first opportunity. At least Sofie wouldn't have to worry about that or being married off to the first man who showed interest and had land. "I know it's scary, but it only comes once a month. There's some herbs that can help too...but you probably know more about that than I do."

She nodded, sitting up in bed and rubbing the tears from her eyes. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Sofie cried suddenly, all sadness forgotten, springing off the bed and rummaging through her trunk of belongings before presenting Svala with a golden pendant housing a flawless sapphire in the middle. "I got this for you, with the money I made in the market. I thought you could wear it with your dress."

She held the pendant in her hand feeling the cool metal against her skin. "I...thank you. You didn't have to do this, Sofie."

"You've done so much for me," Sofie told her softly. "You took me in, you've protected me, given me opportunities to learn..." she gave Svala a watery smile, conjuring a small flame in her palm before flipping the pendant over in Svala's hand and pressing her own flaming fingers against it. Sofie's name glittered to life on the metal. "I just know one day you're going to leave and not come back and I don't want you to forget me when that happens."

Svala wished she could correct her and tell her nothing would change and that she would always return, but she couldn't lie to the young lady before her. Then next time she met Alduin it was very likely it would be her last. She wanted to tell her this, to explain everything to her...but what she said instead was, "I'm sorry I couldn't be the person you needed me to be."

For a moment Sofie stared at her silently, confusion clouding her young features. "But you are." She said firmly after a moment before throwing her arms around Svala's neck and embracing her tightly. "I love you." With a lump in her throat Svala reluctantly began to embrace her back.

Calder cleared his throat softly from the doorway to Sofie's room and the two broke apart suddenly. "My thane, Jorlief is here to escort you to the palace." He was holding Ulfric's cloak out to her with one hand.

"Get some sleep," she told Sofie with a ruffle of her hair before snatching the cloak from Calder and throwing it around her shoulders. She met Jorlief outside Hjerim, taking the arm he offered out to her with a roll of her eyes before walking with him to the palace.

She didn't look back once.

The feast was in full swing while Ulfric waited impatiently in his (former) war room to make his entrance.

It was rather odd, he mused, staring at the map of Skyrim dotted with the little red and blue flags. How many hours had he spent pouring over battle plans, conferring with Galmar, lying awake agonizing over every little detail. And yet that had all led him here, ready to make his debut as High King to be. He picked up one of the tiny crimson flags, studying it carefully before crushing it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Feeling sentimental?"

He spun around to see Svala standing before him, a vision in blue and gold. His courting cloak hung from her broad shoulders accenting the darker reds of her hair. He had never seen her look so...delicate before, looking every bit the part of a proper lady. He had half a mind to take her right on the table, the fact that the palace was filled with Skyrim's elite be damned. What he did instead was dumbly blurt out, "You wore my cloak."

She smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "You told me to."

"You don't always listen."

Her smile grew as she stepped towards him. "Aye, I suppose that's true. But who am I to disobey an order from my king?" Ulfric had never seen her face so clean before...he had never noticed her skin was so pale, like fresh fallen snow. He couldn't resist stroking her scar with his thumb, watching her follow the motion with her eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. He grasped the golden pendant hanging from her neck. "This is new, yes? I thought sure you'd wear my amulet."

She blushed. "You knew I stole it?"

It was Ulfric's turn to smirk. "Of course. But I'd be a hypocrite if I did not confess that I have something of yours in turn..." he held out his other palm, revealing her Amulet of Mara that he had kept all that time. She stilled, as though expecting him to slip it around her neck, only to meet his eyes in surprise when he fastened it around his own. "What?"

"You're..." Svala pointed dumbly at his thick neck. "You know every woman out there will be throwing themselves at you now."

"Let them," he said nonchalantly, holding out his arm to her. "I only have eyes for one." He half expected her to refuse it. What he wasn't prepared for was the way she surged forward instead, pressing her lips against his with an urgency that surprised him. Still, as he felt her tongue caress his own, he supposed he wasn't upset about it. Agonizingly, when he felt her wrap one of her legs around his waist and grind against his growing cock (as much as he could feel through the impressive bulk of the gown) he had to push her away. "Later. Once the feast is over. I'll have you screaming my name for all of Skyrim to hear." He finished in a growl, biting back a satisfied moan as he watched her bite her lip in want. Still, trying to be as regal as possible, he linked his arm with hers. "Come."

"That was the idea," she muttered sourly to him as he led her out of the room and into the palace hall. He smirked at her, rubbing circles into her arm with his thumb. He barely acknowledged Jorlief announcing mhim or the applause and cheering from his guests- instead, he was captivated by the way she looked so...nervous. He had never seen her nervous before, even when facing down a dragon. But put her in front of a group of nobles, in a gown? She looked as though she was ready to vomit or faint (or both).

"Relax," Ulfric murmured to her while maintaining a warm smile for the crowd. "Have some wine."

Svala snorted and gave him a look that told him that getting wine was never in question. He had hoped to make at least one full sweep of the room before being pulled away, but alas, it was not to be. As Svala accosted the nearest server for wine, he felt someone tugging on his sleeve impatiently. Turning around, he found it was Vignar Gray Mane standing with a pretty young woman. Her silver hair was piled elegantly on top of her head, and she was wearing a sky blue gown with a plunging neckline. She was also adorned with enough jewelry to rival what he had found in Elisif's own chambers in Solitude.

"Congratulations Ulfric! Er, I mean, my king," Vignar crowed, shaking his hand with unbridled enthusiasm. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Svala watching this closely, a goblet of wine clutched tightly in each of her hands. "Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Olfina."

The female Gray Mane smiled and immediately fell into a graceful curtsy. "It's an honor, my king." He returned her smile and bowed his head politely.

"The honor is mine," he said with a tight smile, searching for Svala through the crowd. He eventually met her sharp eyes, smirking as he pressed his lips to Olfina's hand. "Stormblade! Come join us."

She stomped over with a murderous look in her eye, reluctantly taking her rightful place at his side. "Allow me to introduce Lady Stormblade, one of my most trusted generals." And future queen of Skyrim, Ulfric wanted to add. However, he didn't put it past Svala to put a knife in his ribs if he made such an announcement without consulting her.

"Hi," Svala muttered with a forced smile.

"You look rather familiar," Vignar said, taking her hand from its stiff place by her side and kissing it daintily. "Are you from Whiterun, perhaps?"

"I own property there." She replied curtly. Olfina hadn't glanced at her once, she was too busy gazing lovingly at Ulfric. He vaguely wondered if Olfina thought it made her look more alluring; in fact all it did was make him uncomfortable.

"That must be it. Well next time you return you must see my housecarl Olfina here for anything you might need, hmm?" Vignar continued, undeterred by Svala's lack of interest in conversation. "Now I wonder if I can borrow King Ulfric for a moment? I have some things to discuss with him that are best...spared from sensitive ears."

He could see Svala opening her mouth to argue so he cut her off preemptively. "Of course, Vignar. We can let the woman get better acquainted." He led the other man away sending Svala a warning glance over his shoulder.

As soon as he had pulled Vignar into a secluded corner, the older man began spewing out information. "My king, if you notice Jarl Thongvor is not present tonight." Truthfully, he hadn't. "The reason being that a dragon has destroyed Karthwasten."

That gave Ulfric pause. His eyes flickered over to Svala who was glaring daggers at Olfina. Good. She hadn't heard. "When?" He hissed.

"During the Siege of Solitude. It's understandable you were focused on something more," Vignar said with a shrug. "Anyway Thongvor has taken the survivors into Markarth, but the Reach is on high alert for future attacks. They've doubled their archers."

"That won't be enough." He recalled the arrows bouncing uselessly off the rough hide of the dragon that attacked Windhelm before he had left for Solitude.

"Then what do you suggest?" Vignar asked, a hard edge in his tone. "We all don't have a personal Dragonborn at our disposal, my king. And this dragon threat grows more dire by the day."

Luckily for Vignar, he was spared from Ulfric's growing wrath as the Shatter-Shields appeared before him. "Congratulations my king!" Torbjorn cried, embracing him tightly. Ulfric scowled at Vignar from over the man's broad shoulder. "I hope we're not interrupting anything important?"

"Of course not," Ulfric said smoothly. "We will continue this conversation at a more appropriate time, Vignar." The Jarl of Whiterun gave him a tight smile and a nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

"Now my king, allow me to introduce my daughter Nilsine." He turned his attention back to Torbjorn who was thrusting his daughter before him, a young Nord beauty dressed in a pale green gown. She shyly smiled at him before dropping into a nervous curtsy. Talos, he remembered when the twins would run around the market stalls, playing hide and go seek. Now he was supposed to view her as a marriage prospect??

"A pleasure," he kissed Nilsine's hand. "And please let me offer my sincere condolences for your loss of Friga. Know that she slumbers with the gods in Sovngarde now."

Tova Shatter-Shield's eyes filled with tears as her husband wrapped an arm around her consolingly. "The greatest service you've done for us is capturing the mad man responsible." The grieving mother told him sincerely. "There was no peace to be found with that...daedra walking free."

"I completely agree," Ulfric nodded. "But honestly, the credit is not mine to take. One of my generals is responsible for bringing Corrium to justice..." he searched for a familiar shock of red hair in the crowd once more but found nothing.

It bothered him for a moment, but Ulfric pushed the concern away, vowing to locate her the second he had a free moment. For now, his people needed him.

"So you know King Ulfric pretty well?" While the men were having their talk that was "not suitable for delicate ears", Svala was subjected to listening to the blathering of an airhead. "Can you give me any tips?"

"Tips on what?" She grumbled, trying to catch wind of what they were saying. From the dark look on Ulfric's face, it wasn't good.

"Y'know," Olfina said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Seducing him?"

"What?!" Her head snapped back to face the other woman, now fully engaged in the conversation. "You want to...seduce Ulfric??"

Olfina giggled with an airy shrug, making the jewels she was draped in jingle. "I mean, I want to be queen. And since the rumors about you two are obviously untrue...why not?"

"Rumors?" She balked at Olfina. "What rumors?"

"Even you can't be that dense, Lady Stormblade," she responded with that infuriating giggle of hers. "All of Skyrim knows just how sweet our new king is on you. We all thought this feast was his chance to show us his new queen," her eyes flittered to Svala's neck, searching for an Amulet of Mara. When she met her gaze once more, there was a smug grin that hadn't been there before. "Guess not."

"Why do you care about Ulfric anyway?" Svala growled. "I thought you were in love with that Battle-Born." She remembered the two making bedroom eyes at each other in Whiterun's market.

Olfina tried to keep her face light still, but Svala could see the hard edge her eyes had taken. "You must have me mistaken with someone else," she said airily. "Jon Battle-Born is married, to that would-be merchant. Ysolda." There was a flush creeping up Olfina's pale neck. "Besides, I'm here at King Ulfric's request. He wanted to meet me." She finished with undeniable pride, puffing her chest out subconsciously to further show off the Amulet of Mara hanging around her own neck.

Svala doubted Ulfric wanted to meet half the women here throwing themselves at him, but the tender way he kissed Nilsine Shatter Shield's hand gave her pause. Maybe Olfina was onto something. Had she, once again, been deceived once her usefulness was up? The war had been won, after all, it's not as though he needed her anymore...

"It's not easy being a woman in Skyrim, I know," Olfina cooed patronizingly at her, watching as she glared daggers into Ulfric's skull and completely missing the mark for Svala's ire. "But stay strong and men will come to respect you, maybe even fear you."

Svala scoffed and shoved by her, looking for the nearest exit. She didn't need a noblewoman to tell her how to make men fear her- that had always come naturally. Once outside in the chilly night air she finally let out a sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than to escape back to Hjerim and leave the stupid city as fast as possible.

"Stormblade, is it?"

Her head snapped up. Elisif the fair was obscured by shadow, leaning against the nearest stone wall. There was a goblet of wine (half gone already) perched in her grip. "At last, I have the honor of meeting the famous Stormblade."

"Jarl Elisif," Svala greeted cautiously. She had never met the woman face to face before, and the way Elisif was slurring her words made Svala think she was already deep in her cups.

"We meet at last," Elisif grinned, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp. "Hmm. From the way Ulfric moons over you, I thought you'd be more of a looker...but you're rather plain, aren't you?" When Svala didn't answer she just continued speaking. "Leaving so soon? I can't imagine that will make his highness very happy."

"He hasn't even noticed I'm gone," she spat back. It was true; she kept watching the palace doors out of the corner of her eye, half expecting to see Jorlief or even Ulfric himself come looking for her.

"He's just busy playing dress up," Elisif sighed dismissively, stepping forward into the moonlight. Svala could clearly see the dark blue dress she was wearing, so dark it appeared more black than blue. "Like it? I chose the darkest color I had in my wardrobe. Wouldn't give Ulfric the satisfaction of wearing his colors."

Svala smirked at that. It sounded like something she, herself would do. Maybe there was more to Elisif than she originally thought. "So why are you out here? I though this was kind of your scene."

"I'm sick of seeing his face," Elisif snarled, far more candid than Svala expected her to be. She supposed that was to be understood, given their history. Still, something bothered her.

"I thought you supported him? Back in Solitude, you said-"

"I'll say anything to keep breathing." The former queen of Skyrim's words were as hard and flat as the stone streets they stood upon. "And if you believed otherwise then you'll never make it as queen." Elisif paused for a moment, studying her face carefully. "Unless of course...you don't want to be queen?" At her hesitance to answer, Elisif's eyes lit up. "You don't, do you?!"

"I don't know what I want!" She exclaimed, feeling rage bubble up inside her, insidious and acidic. "Stop interrogating me!"

Elisif smiled knowingly at her, holding up her hands in surrender. "I apologize, Stormblade. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just think that you need to stop worrying about what Ulfric wants for you and what you want for yourself. Besides," she flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder. "It's not as though he's asking you to take over the family farm. You'd be in charge of all of Skyrim...I'd have thought you'd have your hands full with the dragon business." She waved breezily over her shoulder, stalking back to the palace, letting her words strike like arrows. "Good night, Stormblade. Pleasant meeting you."

She snorted to herself, for Elisif was already too far away to hear it. Meeting her had been anything but pleasant, but her words still left Svala uneasy. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Elisif was right. It was time she thought about what she wanted for herself, not what Ulfric wanted her to do.

For a few more moments she watched the palace doors, almost subconsciously daring Ulfric to come out and stop her, beg her to stay. And perhaps, if he were anyone other than a king, he could have (would have?). But these were pointless games to play- he wasn't coming for her. No one was. It was easier to believe that he hadn't even noticed her absence.

They were all right, they had been all along. No matter how they dressed her up she would never belong in Ulfric's world. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, she all but sprinted to Hjerim (well, as much as the dress would allow).

She was leaving Windhelm that night, never to return.

Towards the end of the feast, Ulfric was so deep in his cups he could hardly remember whose hands he had shook previous. Every time he turned around it seemed another of his guests wanted his attention, pushing another goblet of mead or ale into his hands. Luckily the night seemed to be drawing to a close, which left him stumbling around searching for the only woman he had eyes for.

Unfortunately all he found was Elisif. She had already defied him once by wearing some black garment, ignoring the lovely Stormcloak blue gown he had laid out for her. Now she was strolling back into the palace, a smug grin on her face, and he did not like it one bit. Before she could slink away to her room upstairs he grabbed her by the arm and hissed, "What did you do?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my king," Elisif said sweetly. "Perhaps you should find your date for the evening and retire; you're looking rather tired."

He gripped her arm tighter, picking up on the jab about Svala. "I won't ask again before I strike you right here: what did you do?"

"Nothing you haven't already done to me." She smiled at him cruelly, showing all her teeth; a predator's grin. Taking advantage of his shock she pushed herself off him firmly. "Now goodnight, King Ulfric."

He went to find Jorlief immediately after, demanding he summon Svala at once. However, his steward gently refused, placating him with the knowledge that he would find her at a more appropriate time since she had probably gone home to sleep, and that he should probably do the same and make to his bed. He responded by draining the nearest cup of mead and sending the glass hurdling at the wall.

Still, even as Ulfric ultimately took his advice and made his way to bed, he was enraged to be alone. This wasn't supposed to be how the night went- she was supposed to be at his side so he could tell them all who their queen would be, she was supposed to be at his side as they made their way to his, no, their bed, and she was supposed to be beneath him as he made love to her all night. Instead he was drunk, scowling at the wall at the empty space in his bed until sleep finally claimed him.

Come morning he was still in a foul mood. His head was pounding because of the drink and as the time passed, the worse his anger became with Svala. Who was she to leave the feast? He had ordered her to- no. That wasn't right. He had ordered her to go but he had never told her to stay the night with him; he had just expected she would. She always had before.

He was still bristling as he made his way to his throne, internally warring with himself at who to focus his anger on: himself or her. Eventually this decision was made for him when he met Jorlief in the throne room, his steward looking pale and anxious, his courting cloak for Svala draped in his arms. "My king-" Jorlief began nervously but he silenced him with a look, snatching a folded piece of parchment from the top of the cloak.

My duty is complete. I'm sorry. -S

"Hjerim is empty, my king," Jorlief continued softly. "Calder is bringing Sofie to the College today and he says she left sometime in the night. She didn't say goodbye to him or the girl."

Ulfric could hear the blood rushing in his ears like thundering wind as he unfurled the cloak, only to watch the sword he had given her go clattering to the ground. A Stormblade for his Stormblade...although she wasn't that anymore, was she?

He sunk to his knees and roared out his anguish, part of his thu'um creeping in and sending cracks splintering into the stone foundation of the palace like spiderwebs.