"Do you think she'll come?"
Two sets of eyes, one pair cerulean the other jade, stare down at a rather worn province map. The parchment was littered with holes from flags and stain marks from numerous tankards of mead. This map, once showing the progression of the Civil War against the Empire and its Legion, now showed the movement of the Thalmor.
The other person doesn't say anything for a few minutes, then sighs and goes "Had it been anyone else, Nord or not, I would say no."
"But?"
"But..." Another sigh, then "But I think she will show. Her honor will demand that she answers your call for aid. Whether or not she'll be happy doing so is another matter."
"I didn't have a choice Galmar, you know this." Honey eyebrows flecked with gray furrow as the younger male remembers the events of just over two years ago- his greatest achievement and at the same time his greatest regret.
"Keep tellin' yourself that, Ulfric," the man's Housecarl says, glancing up from the table. "You wanted your throne- you would have forsworn Sovngarde to keep Elisif from becoming High Queen of Skyrim and the Imperials out of our lands. It couldn't have surprised you that the Moot was going to strong arm you into marrying a woman from one of the opposing holds to keep the peace. You were the woolheaded idiot that didn't think of blocking that beforehand. I warned you, Ysarald warned you, by Talos, even Jorleif warned you and he's not one for politics. Now you're stuck with a proven traitorous wife that needs to be executed and war is on our shores again." Galmar huffs in annoyance, having had this discussion with his Lord many times over the past months. "What in the name of Talos were you thinking? Did you seriously think Torygg's woman was just going to forgive and forget you killed her first husband?"
"Not forgive or forget, but at least move on for the sake of Skyrim! All she had to was put on a mask for the public and give me one heir. That's all she was obligated to do, and I would have let her done whatever else she wanted, even if it was to have a string of lovers."
"I will not, under any circumstances, marry a woman I know to be a faithless, conniving, and/or back-stabbing bitch simply because I am absolutely desperate to perpetuate my family line," a voice says from behind them. "Also, if an enemy I have just killed has any relations anywhere, I will find them and have them killed immediately, instead of waiting for them to harbor feelings of vengeance towards me." (Evil Overlord List, Rules 209 and 38 respectively, albeit altered a bit)
"Took you long enough to get up here, Stormblade," Galmar goes to her as he turns around, seeing the tall woman leaning up against the doorframe. "Seems civilian life agrees with you- finally settle down and get lazy?"
"The day I get lazy, General, is the day I move onto whatever afterlife my soul goes to when I die. But that is a discussion for another day." Aisling slowly makes her way into the room, barely giving the other man in the room a second thought. "What I want to know is what was so gods damned important that you had a courier pounding on my door just past dawn this morning? Obviously it involves the idiot's wife if the conversation I overheard is anything to be based on."
The idiot in question slowly raises his head, dull forest orbs locking onto her abnormally empty sapphires. Except for a few new scars, some slightly noticeable gray hairs and perhaps a little bit thinner, she still looked the same after all this time. Ulfric doesn't trust his mouth and brain to work together-they never did in front of the Dragonborn, why should they now?- so all he does is just hold out a well read piece of parchment, which she takes just as quietly. He watches as Aisling's eyes dart across the page, the brows furrowing in thought the further down she goes.
The redheaded officer reads the parchment two more times, each time not truly believing what she saw. She knew both men were waiting for some sort of response, and sighing softly, gestures at Galmar to turn around. At the look he gave her, the woman shakes her head- no, she didn't want him to see what she was about to do. Aisling wouldn't kill Ulfric, oh no, but the less people who saw this, the better for the both of them it would be. As soon as the older man complies, she takes the remaining two steps in front of the man she had once fought for, had once nearly died for, had once given her heart to. Unbidden, her bare hand reaches up and cups his face as it had many times in the past, the coarse facial hair scratching at the calloused palm.
For a moment, the soldier-turned-thief imagined herself back to a time before everything went straight to Oblivion for her, before the end of the war, before the Moot turned Ulfric into one of those milkdrinkers they so despised by giving in to their only demand. The foolish thoughts left just as quickly as they came when Aisling feels him lean into her palm, a contented sigh escaping his mouth. Not like this. Not again.
She wasn't sure who was more shocked when her hand slapped his face, herself, Ulfric, or Galmar, who had whirled around at the sound of the oddly loud crack. The incredulous look on the High King's face, nor his Housecarl's rambunctious laughter, was not going to stop her from telling the man before him exactly how she felt. "You dare? You dare call on me for help in dealing with the woman you tossed me to the side for? For what- a stupid throne? It's not a chair or a title that makes a King, Ulfric... How many people died for you to keep that throne out of Elisif and the Empire's hands, only for you to spit on their memory by rolling over and taking the Moot's collective dick up your arse!? How many of them rallied to your banner to keep the Empire's puppet masters from taking power through Torygg's woman? How many of us did you betray, Uflric, with your words, with your promises? Do you even know?!"
Aisling turns her back and steps away from him, not the smartest thing to do, but she would be damned if the bastard would see her walls on the verge of collapse. Besides, she was tainted now, and she didn't mean in terms regarding her lack of maidenhead. The Nord female pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, wishing that her Patrons would give her a way out of this. Damn it all straight to the Evergloam. What did I do to deserve this?
Ulfric sighed softly, his mossy gaze moving from the slumped shoulders of the woman before him to the now stoic face of his Second. He knew how upset she was the day he allowed the Moot to bind him to the former High King's widow- Aisling might not have shown it on her face, but he could read it in her eyes, the intense sadness and tears threatening to fall nearly broke him the first time. The exhausted man moves towards her, unable to bear not knowing what she never said since the meeting, and places a gentle hand on her bare arm. "Aisling...Dii Vahdin... I know. I'm-"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry, Ulfric Stormcloak!" the fire kissed Nord growls out, whirling around to look at him. "And you lost your right to call me that the afternoon you swore before Talos that you agreed to be bound to Elisif as her husband! I was there at the Temple, I was at your wedding! I prayed, Gods and Daedra how I beseeched someone, anyone, to stop it from happening... No one answered my plea, and so you were married to the woman who up until the Moot was our enemy... All to placate a bunch of Jarls whose loyalty is weaker than a drunk's ability to stay sober."
"Why did you come Aisling?" he murmurs quietly, his hand still wrapped around her bicep. "It's obvious I'm not your favorite person, so why bother?"
She sighs, running long fingers through tousled tresses, then looks into his eyes, her own fatigue evident. "Why? Because you are my Jarl and I am your Thane. I came because you are my King and I am your Stormblade. I am doubly bound to your service, and I am a Nord of my word. When I swear an oath, I keep it...unlike some others."
The verbal jab hit its mark and they all knew it. "Is...that the only reason you're here? Fulfilling an obligation?"
"No," Aisling goes softly as she turns again, this time walking towards the door. When she reaches it, the woman stops, and, after a few moments, adds "But I won't tell you... Galmar. Drinks at Hjerim at seven tonight. Bring me whatever information that has been gathered regarding Elisif's...lack of loyalty to her husband and King. This evening, we plan. Tomorrow I call in favors and then the hunt begins..." Without waiting for an answer, she continues out into the throne room and towards the doors, more than eager to get out of the Palace.
"Well...that went better than expected," the General goes, his gaze moving from the door to his friend. "I personally thought if Stormblade showed up she would have shouted you off a battlement or something. What exactly should I give her?"
"Anything and everything she asks for. As you love to remind me, Galmar, Aisling Stormblade is the best we have. If she wants to interview Elisif, even if it's alone, she can. If she asks for soldiers to attack a possible Thalmor hideout, she gets them."
"...And if she wants your head on a platter when all is said and done?"
"I hope I have enough time to convince her otherwise..."
Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Winter gives way to Spring. Periodically a letter would make its way to the guild by courier from the Guild Master, being passed on by the Altmer fence Niranye. The information wasn't much- just that Aisling was breathing and physically in one piece, though she questioned her emotional well being once or twice after a particular trying day; there was nothing written, though, about what she was doing in Windhelm.
"You know she'll be back any day now, yes?"
Delvin's head looks up from the bottle in from of him, tired eyes falling on his niece's face. "Don't know what you're talking about Sapphire."
"You have the same tells as my father when you're lying," the brunette goes, sitting in the chair across from him. "The most obvious one for you though is a slight twitch in your right eye. Then there's the way you moved where you tend to sit- instead of your back to the cistern, you sit where you can see both ways in. That tells me you're waiting for something, or someone. And since the Guild Master is the only one who's been gone for an extended period of time, wasn't that hard to figure out... That and you've been seen coming out of her home every so often." She reaches out and grabs the mead bottle that once again had his focus and takes a drink of the golden liquid held within. "Seems an old dog can be taught a new trick or two... I was wonderin' if you were ever going to have your world stop revolvin' round Vex. Honestly, was downright depressing- like kicking a puppy."
"Would you rather I had been like Brynjolf and went after anything that walked?"
"Gods no- one incorrigible horny bastard down here is enough. You... do realize she's turned down almost every male in the guild that's propositioned her, right?" A nod is the only answer the woman gets. "I only ask because the odds seem against you. What makes you think she would change her mind?"
The male sighs, then grabs another unopened bottle of mead. "I don't. But even if it doesn't work, I can still give the Boss something that she's been lackin' since she came here."
"Something other than a tumble under the sheets? The Eight know a good fuck would get her to loosen up a bit."
Before Delvin can answer her skeptical question, Rune walks up to him from the Ratway entrance. "Courier asked me to pass this to you Del, didn't say who it was from though." The younger thief holds out a folded piece of parchment that's sealed in with blue wax.
"Thanks Rune," he goes, his topaz eyes peering at the symbol pressed into the seal but not recognizing it. Breaking the barrier, the parchment unfolds in the thief's hands revealing a familiar handwriting.
Today is the last day of Rain's Hand. Assuming it takes the courier takes a day to reach Riften, you should get this no later (gods willing, of course) than the second day of Second Seed. If you're able, the third, around six at night at Honeyside? I'll cook dinner since breakfast didn't happen. And this time you don't even have to break in...if you haven't lost my key, that is.
"Well?"
Delvin's eyes glance over at his niece as his fingers slip the parchment into a pocket. "Well?"
Sapphire throws a crumpled paper at him with a screech. "You know damned well what I'm asking."
"What was that you said?" He puts a hand around his right ear. "I'm having a hard time hearing you. Must be because I'm- what did you call me? Oh that's right...Old."
The woman just puts her head in her hands, mumbling under her breath "I'm dealing with idiots." She looks up at him, glaring at his smirking expression and growls out "Keep your secrets, but know they won't stay that way long."
"When I know, Sapphire, believe me, the Guild won't be too far behind in knowing either."
A/N: Oh Ulfric, you idiot...
The first section I decided to write because I realized I needed to explain exactly why Aisling a little more than slightly annoyed at the missive she received. It's odd though. I tend to be rather...pro-Ulfric in my leanings with things, but I will admit, I enjoyed having him be a regretful sellout. If the spirit moves me, I might consider writing what happens after Aisling's arrival in Windhelm, but that's for another day. Thanks for reading!