(AN: That last chapter felt like it was dragging on forever, and so needed to be cut short. As such, we're ready to shift back to our secondary storyline, and the resolution of a 200-year-long conflict.)
(I'm surprised that anyone likes my very Nord-centric fics [even if it's only two people]: this is especially after visiting Reddit and seeing how people consider the Nordness of the Nords "god howard intentionally making the Nords boring.")
Ysgramor Returns
The second day of Sun's Dawn came at last to Windhelm. The storms subsided and no ash blew upon the Eastmarch from Morrowind. Eirik and Mjoll determined now to return to Windhelm, seeing that the snows had ended. Chief Durak gave them leave, and told him that he would send word to the other strongholds in Skyrim: Eirik the Dragonborn was Blood-kin and would be welcome in every stronghold from here to the Reach. Aela and Lydia were ready shortly, despite the huscarl rather hung over from drinking. Once they had their things in readiness, they left Narzulbur and began the journey back to Windhelm. They found the going much easier, despite all of the snow: the blizzard had made things much worse than they truly were.
Beyond the snowed pass, they made their way across the plain to the gates of the city. They made good time, and were only a few hours before they arrived at the gates of Windhelm. Immediately they went to Candlehearth Hall, to reconnect with Jonna and Serana. They were both of them surprised to see each other's group: Jonna and Serana had gained one and Eirik's group had lost one. Eirik was surprised to see Venerius, for, as with Jonna, he took him for Servius at first glance. But he was not doubtful of who he was, much to Jonna's chagrin.
"Trust me," Eirik told Jonna. "I've spent more time with him than any of you. He's who he says he is."
"How can you be so trusting?" Mjoll asked. "Especially after what happened at Valtheim?"
"What happened?" Jonna asked.
They told Jonna, Sigrun, and Venerius about Serys' betrayal. Serana didn't seem very surprised by this. When Eirik mentioned that she had turned into an older Dunmer, Venerius spoke up.
"What did she look like?" he asked. "Like some withered old creature, worn beyond her years, with eyes narrower than most elves, and lips so thin you'd think her mouth had swallowed them up ages ago?"
"Yes, exactly," Eirik returned. "How do you know?"
"I've known her all my life," Venerius said. "She was my stepmother, Sedris Ulver. A terrible woman she was: she hated all things - my father and my brother and I not the least - and she took out her hatred upon us regularly."
"Did you say Sedris Ulver?" Serana asked.
"Yes," both Eirik and Venerius said at once.
"And you're sure she's dead?" Venerius asked. Eirik nodded.
"Well, that's a relief," Serana said. "We found out something about her: something worse than trying to seduce you, Eirik. I found a cache of weapons in the Grey Quarter, in Sadri's Used Wares: Stormcloak weapons, secreted there by magic by our Sedris Ulver."
"Weapons?" Eirik muttered. "She...she did say that she had armed the Grey Quarter."
"Armed!" Jonna exclaimed. "This is worse than we thought! Eirik, you need to forget whatever qualms you have and do as Sigrun suggested: expel the Dunmer from the Grey Quarter before they become violent!"
Eirik nodded, but said nothing at first. After a while, he turned to Venerius. "I...I'm sorry about how my associate has treated you. Please, stay with us for a little while more. I will have words with you before the end. And now, if you'll excuse me..." He got up and left Candlehearth Hall. Mjoll rose up after him, telling the others to remain behind at the inn. She found him before the brazier in front of Candlehearth Hall, gazing southward, a grim look on his face. She walked over to his side.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I...I can't believe what I've just heard..." he said.
"What? That Serys was a deceiver?"
"No, not that. That she was in any way connected to Crixus, of all people; as his stepmother."
"Why is that such a problem for you?"
"You know that my parents died when I was young," he said. "I was raised by a stepfather, a Stone-Fist from Bruma. Now I see that Crixus also was raised by a step-parent. I...I can't believe how close Crixus and I were. What would have happened if Sven had been like Sedris, and I grew up in a house not unlike Crixus'? Would not I have become as much a loathsome rake as he is now?"
"You are nothing like Crixus, my love," Mjoll replied, taking his head in her hands. "I've seen your kind heart: even now, you refuse to act in any way that might seem without honor...more than you should, I might say." Eirik frowned, but Mjoll kept her hands upon his head. "The Divines made you as you are, and brought you to me for a reason: not Crixus, but you. There's no point in clinging to the maybes and perhapses of what might have been: you are who you are now, and I love you for it." She leaned in and kissed his lips.
Eirik's look softened, but he did not smile. "You know what I have to do, now?"
Mjoll nodded. "Yes. Though it saddens my heart to do so, I feel you have no other choice." Eirik nodded. "What will you do now?"
"I must speak with Ulfric."
From Candlehearth Hall, Eirik, Mjoll, Lydia, Aela, Jonna, Serana, and Venerius went to the Palace of the Kings. Once they entered the main hall, Eirik had the others stay back as he went alone to speak with Ulfric. Venerius had his first look at Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. He said nothing, for he was concerned about present company: they were all Nords, and from what he gathered, they had nothing ill to say about him. It was true, despite what the people of Windhelm said, that he had no intention of recruiting for the Imperial Legion. His political biases were minimum, for his calling was for Stendarr above all else.
At length Eirik returned, a stern look on his face, and one of the officers of the Stormcloaks - a large man bearing a bear-skull upon his head named Galmar Stone-Fist - behind him.
"Serana, lead us to Sadri's Used Wares," he said to her.
She nodded and followed the two of them out of the palace; the rest of them fell in line behind them. Once they were outside, the large man roared orders and fifteen soldiers of the Windhelm hold guard left their posts and fell in behind them. They were now making their way east and down, towards the Grey Quarter. Many a blue-gray, red-eyed face glared angrily at them as they passed them by. The group came to a halt outside a building with many colorful banners, with the name 'Sadri's Used Wares' on the front.
Here Eirik, Serana, and Galmar entered swiftly. There were several Dunmer in the store, and they all looked venomously at the newcomers.
"Don't you have your own quarter to live in?" one of them sneered.
"Watch your tongue, elf!" Galmar retorted.
"Where is it?" Eirik asked.
"Right there," Serana said, pointing to the floor.
A nervous look entered the eyes of the pawnbroker. "Where's what? What is the meaning of this? I demand to know why you're barging into my shop immediately!"
"Men, get these boards out," Galmar said. A group of guards began prying up the floor-boards in the shop where Serana had indicated.
"Get out of here immediately!" the proprietor retorted. "I will not see to being disgraced by your kind: you owe it to us, you know!"
"Owe you?" Eirik returned. "We gave you welcome and hospitality for two hundred years, and you repay us with treachery?"
"Well, perhaps if Ulfric hadn't been such a narrow-minded bigot," sneered the elf. "There'd be no need."
"Some cheek he has!" Serana commented.
"Sir!" one of the soldiers cried out. Galmar turned to where he had been called, and the soldier pointed down to the room underneath the floor-boards. A large stash of weapons and armor, all bearing the Bear of Windhelm, and material for building such, were situated in neat piles beneath the floor. Eirik turned to Revyn Sadri, who quailed beneath his gaze.
"By Azura, I have no idea how that got there!" he said.
But Eirik was having none of it. "You've always been our enemies. And when we took you in in your time of need, you were our enemies still: there is the proof!" He pointed to the weapons. Eirik didn't listen to Revyn's attempts to persuade them that he wasn't at fault: he barged out of the shop and into the streets again, drawing his sword.
"If Athal Sarys doesn't show himself at once," he said in a loud voice. "I will kill one Dunmer of the Grey Quarter every thirty minutes until he's found! No more games: how much is one life worth above all of yours?"
"You have nothing to threaten us with, n'wah," sneered one of the Dunmer. "Sarys is everywhere. We would gladly give our lives to save his and see your kind driven out of our city."
"Your city?" Eirik asked. Then with a swift swing of his sword, he struck down the elf. Cries rose up from those in the Grey Quarter. "There's the proof! If you think I'm joking, keep pretending! I don't want any more to die than must, but I will keep my word!"
"Stop b*tching, you snow-back cock-sucker," a familiar voice slurred. Eirik turned and saw a crowd of Dunmer standing before him, with venomous expressions on their faces. From their midst came Athal Sarys, a look of hatred on his face. "I'm here."
Eirik kept his hand upon his sword, but lowered it from attack stance. "We have found evidence that your people are hoarding weapons to be used to overthrow this city. There's no need denying it: we have them in our custody now." Eirik gave a cry, and one of the hold guards left Sadri's shop, with a bundle of gear in his arms: this he deposited at Eirik's feet. Those in the crowd looked on in abject horror: Athal, however, merely laughed.
"You have nothing, n'wah," he mocked. "Stupid snow-back. Do you think parading around fur-n-shite armor means a bucket of guar piss?"
"We have a confession from one of your chief conspirators, Sedris Ulver," Eirik said. Some of the crowd gasped, but Athal Sarys remained stone-faced.
"Throwing words at me does nothing," he said. "It only makes you look stupider than you are, Nord." There was a contemptible sneer in his voice when he said 'Nord.'
"Listen, people of the Grey Quarter!" Eirik said in a loud voice. "Two hundred years ago, the High King of Skyrim passed the Decree of Monument, permitting your people to live in Skyrim, unbound to our laws and free to practice your own faith and traditions as you see fit. Today, that decree is null and void. The Empire cannot help you anymore: you must now swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak, the future High King of Skyrim, or quit the country in twenty days." Cries rose up from the crowds.
"Where will we go?"
"We're not rebels!"
"We shouldn't have expected equal treatment from our enemy."
"Nerevar take the damn dirty Nords!"
"You can talk all you want," Athal replied smugly. "I ain't going nowhere." Eirik rose his sword and brought it to Athal Sarys' throat.
"You will," he replied. "Or you'll die."
"Kill me, then," he returned. "Make a martyr of me. My people will sing songs about me for centuries after your children's children are dust. Every snow-back that they kill, they will kill in my name. I had intended on calling your precious 'Windhelm' New Gnisis, after my hometown in Morrowind: I'll wager they'll name it after me. My name will live on forever, while you will be forgotten! No one will ever..."
"Fus...Ro Dah!" Eirik Shouted.
There was a clap of thunder and a rush of wind, and the crowd was dispersed, blown this way and that. No hear in Windhelm did not hear the sound of the Thu'um. Those who had heard Eirik Shout before marveled; for his Voice was stronger and more intense than they had heard it before. The crowd slowly rose, groaning and cursing the 'evil white devil' as they did. As they were rising, Jonna thought she could see an old Imperial man with gray hair and a neatly-trimmed mustache and goatee among the entourage; someone she hadn't seen before. He smiled at her and winked, but when she took a second glance, all that she could see in the crowd were Dunmer.
"All those who will not swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak must leave Skyrim in twenty days," Eirik repeated. "I have spoken, and I have the city guard to back me up. So let it be done!"
"It will not be done!" Athal retorted. "The Three-in-One will hear of this. Our prayers will ascends to the ears of ALMSIVI, and you will be but another notch on lord Vivec's glorious Milk-Finger!"
"How do you plan on making that happen?" a voice asked from the crowd. "By going on a pilgrimage to the ruins of Vivec, sifting through the ash and rubble, pulling out his burned remains, and dangling them on a pole to frighten the Nords? Even the dullest Orsinmer wouldn't be fooled by that!" Gasps rose up from the crowds, as they looked around for the one bold enough to openly denounce the Tribunal.
"Who dares blaspheme lord Vivec!" Athal shouted. "Someone silence him! We will not have his lies!"
"Oh, they're not lies, my lad," the voice said; still no one could find where the voice was coming from. "It's very true. I have here a piece of Baar-Dau, the rock that smashed his bald head in, along with all the other charlatans. Here, let me show you."
A stone flew and struck Athal Sarys on the head. He collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of the wound on his head, and rose no more. The crowd gathered about him, as though to protect his body from the 'white devils.' Some were weeping in sadness, or cradling his body. Suddenly there was a cry and the black rock that had felled him was thrown aside in terror.
"The Fourth Corner sends his regards!" the voice declared. Jonna turned toward the voice and thought she saw the figure again: an old Colovian man in a purple doublet, leaning upon a black cane. Then his eyes met hers, and she saw that he had yellow eyes, like a cat's: or a dragon's. No sooner had their eyes met but he grinned and winked, and then vanished. Never again would she see that face in the waking world.
The Grey Quarter saw an unusual amount of activity from the Nord population of Windhelm than it had in many months. As not a soul hadn't heard the Shout, all were now gathered around in awe of Eirik, or had passed by at some point to gape and gawk at him. The guards that Galmar had brought with them were now carrying the weapons and supplies back to the Stone Quarter, where they would be sent into the hands of Oengul War-Anvil and the quartermasters of the Stormcloak army. But while the Dunmer glared and cursed at Eirik, even those who had usually been indifferent towards the Nords, the native people of Windhelm were whispering furtively about him. From soldier to commoner, rumors began to circulate about the Shout that had been heard. Some said that this was the same Thu'um that Ulfric had used in his battle with dead-king Torygg; others shared rumors of the Dragonborn, the one who had slain Alduin and stopped the dragons, and they wondered if this was he. Some others even said that they had seen him in the company with the Companions in Whiterun (for Aela at least was counted among their number, and she was with him now). Still others said that they had heard him speak in Whiterun not but a week ago, and that he was Ulfric's champion.
"Ysgramor," they uttered. "Ysgramor has returned to his city."
But Eirik cared little for the whispers of others. He had done his work and was yearning to return to Candlehearth Hall, and leave such ugly matters aside. Yet he knew that there would be much more to do before the day was out. He told the Dunmer that they would be permitted to come to the Palace of the Kings freely and swear allegiance to Ulfric Stormcloak: he personally gave his word that no guard or citizen would hinder them in any way. While the Dunmer were angry at him for humiliating them with his Voice and giving them such a high ultimatum, some of them were somewhat assuaged by this offering: some of them had made a comfortable living for themselves here in Skyrim, and had no desire to uproot themselves for any reason.
"And what about the Argonians?" Rolff Stone-Fist, brother of Galmar and Sven, asked. He was among the crowd of onlookers from the main part of the city. His opinion of Eirik had changed regarding his ultimatum, though he wasn't sure about his solution. "Are they going to be given an ultimatum as well? Or are they coming into the city as well?"
"You know that won't do any good," Galmar stated.
"Ah, but it will, brother," Rolff added. "Put them both in the Grey Quarter, play them off against each other, and remove all our problems in one sweep."
"I care not," Eirik returned. "But I am not Ulfric, and will do no more than I have. The war is my goal, and this has all been to secure Windhelm from treachery. If you wish, put the Argonians under watch: if there is treachery among them, we'll deal with it then."
"Then may be too late," Rolff stated. "Them lizards conquered half of Morrowind from the dark elves. They're too dangerous to ignore."
"Perhaps," Eirik muttered. He then turned to Galmar. "Which is why we must bring this war to a swift close. How soon can you get the Stormcloaks ready for battle?"
"Now that we have our weapons back?" Galmar chuckled. "A few days at the most."
"Good," he said. "I need to speak with Ulfric." He then turned to his companions and invited them along with him: he had an appointment in the Palace of the Kings.
That afternoon, the whole company - Eirik, Mjoll, Lydia, Aela, Jonna, Serana, and Venerius - were now within the Palace of the Kings. Galmar was overseeing the preparation of the Stormcloaks here in Windhelm, as well as having Jorleif write missives to Korir, Skald, and Vulwulf: they needed to be ready to move at a moment's notice. In the main hall, the company sat at the great table and ate lunch: Serana did not eat, but sat with them and watched and listened. Eirik, meanwhile, was standing before Ulfric with Jonna at his side at the head of the table. Before them sat the map upon which Sigrun had drawn the names that had appeared in the letter: Riften, Valtheim, Whiterun, Falkreath, Markarth, Morthal, Dragon Bridge, Solitude.
"Yes," Ulfric muttered. "This looks to be an plan of attack, or I am no soldier." He began pointing on the map. "With Valtheim secure, we'll have the high ground and be able to field troops into Whiterun: that's the beating heart of Skyrim herself. We'll take Falkreath to cut off any Imperial reinforcements from Cyrodiil, then cripple Tullius' access to Skyrim's silver by retaking the Reach. After that, we claim Morthal, then push on to Dragon Bridge..." He slammed his fist on the point of the map marked with a wolf's head, then looked up at Eirik, a smile on his face.
"...then Solitude, and Skyrim's freedom!"
"How quickly can we begin?" Eirik asked.
"Immediately," Ulfric replied. "With our weapons back, I'll send a detachment to garrison Valtheim: you've done us a great service in securing it for our cause...and in presenting me with this plan of battle."
"It wasn't all my doing, my lord," Eirik returned. He then turned to Jonna. "My companion provided me with the map."
"Is that so?" Ulfric asked. "I hear from Jorleif that she's caught the Butcher. You keep very useful company, Dragonborn." He then paused, a sour look on his face.
"My lord?"
"I am disturbed," said Ulfric. "Your demonstration today in the Grey Quarter: you've become quite popular. You have the love of the people, Dragonborn, for what you've done, and now the people of the Rift and Eastmarch look to you as their defender. What more could you have for yourself?"
Eirik suddenly discerned what Ulfric was suggesting. Stepping aside, he knelt down before Ulfric. "On my honor, and the honor of Bjorn, my father, I have no thoughts of disloyalty or rising up against you, my lord. I fight only for Skyrim and her people."
"Only for Skyrim?" Ulfric asked.
"And, of course, for you."
Ulfric stroked his chin pensively. "Indeed. I must give you a proper reward for your service to me, then: to ensure that no such thoughts ever enter your mind. Since you lost the title of Thane of Whiterun for your devotion to the cause, and since your companions saved our city from this Butcher, I will name you, Eirik the Dragonborn, Thane of Windhelm. I give you permission to purchase property in the city, and will also notify the guards of your new title."
Eirik bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord."
But Jonna was watching with wrapped attention and wide eyes of shock. Into her mind came the words from the letter, read long ago in Lakeview Manor: If Ulfric Stormcloak is compromised in any way, it is up to our Father to unite and lead Skyrim. What if that was happening before her very eyes at this moment? Sigrun should be here, to advise Eirik of what to do: she had the letter, and she was the daughter. Who was she herself but the daughter of some nobody who had never worked with him but once?
No, she dismissed. It'll have to be me. I'll just have to do if she's not here.
At that moment, Lydia spoke up.
"Uh, excuse me," she said. "Apologies, Jarl Ulfric, but I have some questions that I'd like to ask. I was given to Eirik as his huscarl by the Jarl of Whiterun, after he was named thane. Now that he's the Thane of Windhelm, can I be his huscarl again?"
"I already have someone in mind," Ulfric replied. "As for you, housecarl, I have no rule over you...until I am High King. The Jarl of Whiterun will have to reinstate you. And what was the other question?"
Lydia frowned, fearing the very real prospect of being replaced. But then, remembering what she had asked Eirik at Valtheim, she spoke again. "I had suggested earlier to Eirik about using the shield-wall formation. Since we're going into battle, is that something that your officers will be teaching your new recruits?"
Ulfric grinned. "It's possible. Surely we'd need such discipline once we face the Legions. Speak to Galmar if you have any further questions."
"Very good, sir," Lydia bowed. She then turned to Jonna, took her by the hand, and prepared to lead her from the table. "Come, we need to get you a shield and start drilling."
"What? Why me?"
"You're fighting for the Stormcloaks, right?" Lydia asked.
"Well, yes," Jonna returned. "But I had always imagined just, well, fighting the way we always have."
"Individually?" Lydia asked. "That may work for Eirik, but the rest of us are line-soldiers. We need training, and that includes you too."
Jonna protested, but Lydia was having none of it. They left the main hall and went on their way to the war room to speak with Galmar Stone-Fist. Jonna was deeply troubled now, for she feared that Eirik's life and the fate of their grand scheme was in jeopardy and she, the only one with the knowledge - and therefore the duty - to do anything about it, was being parted from him.
I'm sorry, Sig, she apologized in her head.
(AN: At last we did it. I was arguing in my head over and over, for many long months, about just how this particular event should take place. I settled on this one, since it was the most "diplomatic" of the options. Of course we can still say that Eirik does things that are "less than honorable" here [as others have in this fic so far]. Ulfric doubting Eirik was part of the Kingmaker alternate world, where Ulfric betrays Eirik for fear of him betraying him, and then Eirik kills Ulfric and becomes the leader of the rebellion/High King. I don't think we'll go through that in this story [though it wouldn't be a bad idea for an AU Skyrim fic])
(Meanwhile, in my desperate attempt to play Skyrim, more bugs have been thrown my way [even the dreaded freezing bug, which I thought was squashed ages ago]. I'm starting to wonder if I should refurbish my old desktop, upgrade the hardware, and buy Special Edition Skyrim. Ended up uninstalling all mods and trying again from a fresh start. Wish me luck!)