(AN: Okay, that last chapter took FOREVER to complete! I hope you all are still with me. Been busy with Holiday working, losing my writing mojo again, and being sick over Christmas.)
(Now we're all back in Skyrim and things are about to get moving again!)
Jarl of Whiterun
Rikke hadn't been invited to the war council. Rather than go about her business, she delayed momentarily to sneak over to Castle Dour. Something was going on that she was not cleared to see, and that bothered her. She was General Tullius' liaison to the people of Skyrim, and he had always kept her well-informed on what the Legion were planning. Why she hadn't been invited was baffling; there had been no summons, no letter informing her that she wasn't to meet there at all. She found out when arriving for her orders at the doors of Castle Dour and being kept out of the war room by her own soldiers.
But she was determined to find out what was being said without her knowledge. Therefore she went to the master of ravens in Solitude: an Altmer mage by the name of Olynnswe. Her family had emigrated from the Summerset Isles to High Rock early in the Fourth Era due to their unpopularity with the Aldmeri Dominion; there she had studied Illusion and was rather keen with scrying. Her preferred method of scrying was with a pigeon she had found injured and missing an eye: though she had managed to save the bird's life, the eye was gone for good. A few spells later, and now the bird's missing eye served as her window to see everything it could see, as well as hear everything within earshot.
After a modest payout from Legate Rikke, Olynnswe summoned her pigeon and sent it off to nest in an open window of Castle Dour. In the aviary where she tended the ravens, she summoned the reflective mirror through which she and Rikke would see and hear all that was going on in the secret council. Rikke saw General Tullius, and Servius Crixus, as well as Elenwen and another Thalmor she didn't quite recognize.
"Whiterun is the key to this," Tullius said. "We should send another Legion to reinforce it."
"How many times must I repeat myself?" Crixus' drawl was heard. "Whiterun is not our first concern: Solitude is. Ulfric Storm-cunt has Eirik with him, and he's the Dragonborn. I've seen firsthand what he can do. We need to fortify Solitude: make it impregnable."
"It's already inaccessible from any point save the main road," Tullius replied.
"It's vulnerable to assaults from the sea, and from the sky. The Dragonborn can summon dragons to aid him. We need to have our best archers on the walls of Solitude facing south and east. We need ballista, battle-mages, traps for fuck's sake!"
"Do you really believe this Eirik will summon a dragon to attack Solitude?" Elenwen's voice asked.
"It's what I would do if I were him," Crixus replied. "And it's what he will do, if it comes to that."
"I have no intention of letting it come to that," Tullius said. "I'll have Dragon Bridge made a primary target. The rebels won't be able to field an assault on Solitude if we hold the crossings of the Karth River."
"Haven't you been in the east, Crixus?" Elenwen asked. "What can you tell us about what the rebels have in their holds?"
"Very little in the way of ships," Crixus replied. "Not enough to stand against the Imperial fleet...if you hadn't stopped us first."
"Oh?" Elenwen asked, a hint of condescension in her voice. "I was under the impression that the Empire cooperates with my government."
"We do," Tullius stated. "But we didn't ask you to intervene in our war."
"We wouldn't dare interfere with your little affairs!" Elenwen retorted.
"Is that why Thelgil of Alinor is now in Skyrim?" Crixus asked.
A furtive expression passed over Elenwen's face; apparently this Thelgil fellow was one with whom she was not very fond. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Precisely that," Crixus returned. "Your government has an enforcer in Skyrim; exactly what are we supposed to make of that?"
"And what, dear Servius Crixus," Elenwen replied. "Should we make of an Imperial loyalist murdering his own Emperor at the weakest point of his empire?"
Silence fell upon the group. Even Rikke, where she espied on the meeting, clasped her hand over her mouth. What she had heard was the worst blow she could possibly have taken. The Emperor was the Empire, and his will was extended through the Red Legions: without him, what was the Empire? What were the Legions without their Emperor? Eirik's words entered once more into her ears, and she feared to consider what he had said: that the Empire was a shell of its former glory.
But Crixus' response shook Rikke out of her stupor of surprise.
"You lying b*tch!" he retorted. "No true son of the Empire would ever raise a hand against his Emperor, and how dare you make such an accusation! I don't care if you are the Thalmor Ambassador: you'll die for this!"
"Control yourself, man!" Tullius demanded.
"How can you allow such lies and-and slander?" Crixus demanded.
"Oh, they're not lies at all," Elenwen replied. "Aren't they, General Tullius? Or will you stand here before me and say that Titus Mede II is alive and well, cloistered up in the White-Gold Tower, unwell and unavailable to all save for the Penitus Oculatus?"
General Tullius said nothing, but his expression soured.
"If I have spoken amiss," Elenwen retorted. "Then produce the Emperor: I would have much to say to him, especially considering how close he allowed one of his doubles to be slain here in Solitude."
From the expressions on Tullius and Crixus' faces, they were surprised that she knew this. Elenwen condescendingly tutted at them.
"Oh, I know everything that goes on in Skyrim," she replied. "I even know the identity of the one who murdered your precious Emperor: none other than Servius Crixus himself."
"Liar!" Crixus roared. "Nothing but lies out of your cock-holster! Shut it now, or I'll shut it for you!"
"Why so cross?" Elenwen asked; her tone showed that she was little affected by his roaring. "If I am mistaken, demonstrate my error." She then spoke to General Tullius. "Under the doctrine of the Prophet-Most-Simian, I declare Servius Crixus to be guilty of murdering his own Emperor in cold blood and demand that he be placed in prison until he be allowed to prove himself innocent...if it is at all possible."
"You yellow b*tch!" Crixus shouted, slamming his fist on the table and lunging at her.
"Guards!" Tullius shouted.
"General!" Crixus cried out, as soldiers seized him by the arms. "Have I not been loyal to the death? Remember the Red Ring? The Battle of the Red Dog Pass? I am a loyal son of the Empire!"
"So you say," Tullius replied. "And you will be judged as one; may the Eight help you prove your innocence. Take him away."
At this, the image faded and Rikke sat aghast at what she had just witnessed. The Emperor dead, the Dominion holding off reinforcements, and now one of their own - albeit a troublesome one - imprisoned for treason. What had become of the Empire?
She turned to Olynnswe. "Breathe a word of this to anyone else, and you'll be in prison as well. Now, get me your fastest bird: I need to write a letter."
"If I am allowed to ask," the Altmer woman replied, a hint of offense in her voice at the Nord's blunt threat. "Where shall I be sending your bird?"
"Whiterun," was the answer.
The tenth day of Sun's Dawn, the 202nd year of the Fourth Era. The Northern Maiden had returned to the docks at Windhelm after its sixteen day, two-way journey to and from Solstheim. Onto the docks, three rather strange-looking figures disembarked from the ship and made their way from the docks into the city proper: they were dressed like the wild Nords of old - in clothes made of animal skins - and one of them was of enormous proportions. What they themselves found was a strange sight, almost exactly like the one they had left five days earlier: Dunmer in strange clothing were on the docks, loading their personal belongings onto ships or paying for others to load them for them. Those who worked the docks in Windhelm were Argonians, the lizard-folk of Black Marsh: but these had no love for the Dunmer. They had been slaves of the elves of Morrowind for centuries, and they had never forgotten their ill-treatment at the hands of the Dunmer. Fights broke out here and there, and several were thrown overboard into the frigid waters of the bay.
The three of them left the dock exchange and made their way to Candlehearth Hall. Unfortunately, Elda Early-Dawn told them that the ones they were seeking were no longer staying at Candlehearth Hall. She directed them instead to a house on the northeastern corner of the city named Hjerim, where they were now staying. After thanking them, they made their way to the northeastern side of Windhelm in search of the address known as Hjerim. What they found was a modest-sized house with a pair of armed men at the doorway. As they approached, they noticed that one of the armed men was a woman; one whom they recognized.
"Lydia!" Sigrun exclaimed.
"Sigrun?" asked the armed woman. "What in Oblivion! Sixteen days and you come back dressed as a Skaal, and with a giant as well!"
"Is...Eirik here?" asked Sigrun. "We have a lot to talk about with him."
The huscarl opened the door for them and Sigrun and Erik walked in first; Talvi had to bend down almost double to pass in behind them. Inside, they found a long table in a dimly-lit room whose floor and roof were of wood, but whose walls were of stone. At the table were several people whom Sigrun recognized: Eirik was there, as well as Mjoll, Jonna, Serana, and Aela the Huntress. There were also several others whom Sigrun did not recognize: a large man with a bear-skin upon his head, a short, broad-shouldered man with dark hair dressed in a white doublet, an old man and a woman of roughly middle-age, dressed in armor as outlandish as their Skaal clothing.
Eirik, Mjoll, and Jonna were more than happy to see Sigrun at their doorstep, practically unannounced. They gave her long embraces one after another: Eirik, though he seemed to be in the midst of an important meeting, took the time to leave his seat and greet his returned daughter. Erik was greeted warmly, though not as fondly as with Sigrun; though all of them were amazed at Talvi and gave her fearful looks. Once introductions had been made, Eirik brought chairs to the table for his daughter and Erik, and they joined the company with Sigrun near the head of the table with Eirik and Mjoll, and Erik next to her: as there were no seats that could have held Talvi, she sat on the floor with her back against the wall somewhere near the head. They were introduced to the company at large, and then Eirik brought them up to date with what they had been doing.
"The days of preparation have come to an end," he said. "I'm going to answer Balgruuf's challenge. If I succeed, then I will take Whiterun for the Stormcloaks without shedding blood."
"If?" Mjoll asked. "Dear, you've fought dragons, demons, gods, and Talos knows what else! How can you fear for your life now?"
"By remembering that someone else stronger than me might always be there," Eirik replied.
"Sven was always a cautious one," the bear-skinned man said, whom Sigrun had been introduced to as Galmar. "But we have the advantage now. We have Valtheim under our control and know what Balgruuf will do...and if the Empire moves to defend Whiterun. Caution would give the Empire the advantage and leave you unable to take the city by single combat."
"Then we must act now and not falter," Eirik stated. "How are the other armies faring?"
"All has been made ready, as you requested," said Galmar. "The new armor has been passed out and will be ready for us when we go to battle."
"Good, good," Eirik said. "We will have to strike quickly once I take Whiterun, and keep the Legion from forming a suitable defense or countering us."
"Where will we be?" Sigrun asked. "I mean, if you're going to war, then where will I...that is, Jonna and I be?"
"I'll bring a small force with me as far as Valtheim," Eirik said. "I'll have you three with me..." He turned to look at Talvi. "...or four, if your friend is willing to join us."
"Where she goes, I go," Talvi said plainly.
"I suppose that will be well and good," said Galmar. "If this lass here is a giant, perhaps she could convince the other giants to join us? There were a few giants in our ranks during the first battles of the war." Talvi's eyes lit up at the mention of other giants, and all eyes were now turned to her.
"Sigrun?"
"We'll talk about that later," said Sigrun. "First, we have a lot of catching up to do."
The rest need not be repeated what was said. Eirik and Galmar talked on and on about battle-plans and whatnot: Sigrun was relieved to hear this, and she felt that the loss of the map might not be so serious as she had feared for the past eleven days. Once their plans had been made, Galmar departed and left the house. Eirik then turned to Sigrun and Erik and asked them for an account of their journey on Solstheim. The two of them regaled what had happened on Solstheim, leaving out no detail save for the loss of the map and their own private liaison at Thirsk Mead Hall on the fourth of Sun's Dawn.
"After we left Nikulas at Thirsk," Sigrun concluded. "We returned to the Skaal village and told them about the salvation of Baldor Iron-Shaper. It was the Skaal who dressed us as you see us: they were able to get us into Raven Rock under the eyes of the Redoran Guard. One of their number, Edla the mother of Nikulas, is known among the Dunmer and has often traded with them. She was able to get us into Raven Rock, though the Dunmer are not as tolerant of the Skaal as they once were."
"If I may say so," Erik added. "What happened next was truly a miracle: when we came to Raven Rock, we found that the Northern Maiden was still docked and we were able to embark before the day ended. Whoever we prayed to was truly listening to us!"
Sigrun smiled. "So it was, and I must say that I was never so happy as when I saw the ship's masts at the wharf at Raven Rock; I nearly cried." She looked at Jonna and winked.
"I'm amazed that you came through so many perils," Eirik said. "Truly you are ready. Tonight, you shall sleep here in Hjerim: tomorrow, we begin the road to Whiterun...and war."
"Good!" Sigrun exclaimed. "I was getting quite tired of dried meat and pickled salmon."
The rest of the afternoon, Eirik and the other three strangers - whom he hadn't been introduced - went aside to a secret room and had private conversation with each other. Sigrun, meanwhile, was permitted a little time to wander upstairs with Jonna: though she had quite enjoyed her time on Solstheim, particularly near the end of it when she was alone with Erik at Thirsk, she missed the company of her beloved 'sister'. To her she shared everything that had happened, even down to what had happened at Thirsk between her and Erik. Jonna gasped in shock when she heard the news.
"You're serious?" she asked. "You actually let him...son of a b*tch! I thought you had more sense than that! I mean, we're on a serious mission here! You can't just be having sex with anybody you meet here. We're not in our time, or don't you remember? And why didn't you try and get the map back?"
"You seem to be doing just fine without it," Sigrun replied sheepishly: she hadn't expected Jonna's response, nor indeed had she properly known what response she had expected her to give, to her little rendezvous.
"Were you too busy riding the sword of Erik the Slayer to find your map?" Jonna asked. Sigrun shushed her, as they were getting loud. Jonna lowered her voice, but the intensity of her words hadn't softened. "Or did you completely forget what you still had to do when you got back!"
"Ugh! It's not like that, okay?"
"Really? Well, then what is it like?"
"I..." Sigrun sighed, then decided at that moment to divulge what had happened. "I had to do it, okay?"
"Really? You just had to give your virginity to some farm-boy you just met?"
"It...I don't know how to explain it," Sigrun said. "But...well, those strange moments I've been having. I take it you've noticed them?" Jonna nodded silently. "Well, they kind of just go away when I'm around him."
"Oh," Jonna replied. "So you used Erik to relieve your own pain, then. Is that it?"
"Well...yes."
Jonna frowned. "Does he know?"
"What? No! I...I didn't tell him."
"Uh-huh. Don't you think you should?"
"Why?"
"Why? Sig, you're the one who's been making me lie for you since you feel uncomfortable standing before Shor with a guilty conscience or whatever. Now you're leading Erik on, saying you love him when you're just using him?"
"I never said I love him," Sigrun replied.
"Sig, I may have your back, but don't expect me to swallow your crap for you; we were both raised better than this."
"Like you were any better? Saying you'll sleep with whoever can drink you under the table?"
"That is different!" Jonna retorted. "I'm older than you..."
"By a few months!"
"...I'm older than you, and I don't have a massive burden on my shoulders! And what about you? You do know what's gonna happen now that you're..."
"I didn't let him...well, you know...inside me. So there's no reason to worry about that."
"Just as well you did. So, when are you going to tell him?"
"What, me?"
"You need to tell him," Jonna replied. "If you don't, he's liable to get himself killed for you. And if your little 'prevention' didn't work, there's no way in seventeen realms of Oblivion that I'm letting you raise a child all by yourself!"
"Why do you care so much?" Sigrun asked.
"I'm your big sister!" Jonna replied. "It's my duty to keep you from fucking things up."
"I'm almost an adult," Sigrun returned. "I don't..."
"...need anyone to help you? Is that what you think?" Jonna finished, giving Sigrun a look of disapproval and disbelief. "And what if something goes wrong and you end up carrying his child? Will you still say that you don't need anyone to help you?" Jonna sighed, then turned to walk away but then halted and turned back around. "Growing up, Sig. It's not about being able to drink, kill, and fuck whoever you wish: it's having the wisdom to know when to do each of those things and when not to." She stormed off, saying nothing as she left.
Sigrun, meanwhile, kept a sour expression on her face. She was feeling unfairly mistreated and misunderstood. She had done as she felt was right in the moment: she needed relief from her pain. None of them could understand the kind of pain she was going through: she didn't even understand it, and she was going through it. She doubted not that any one of them would have done the same, given her situation: even Father would certainly have done likewise, she reasoned, especially having seen him in the company of mostly women.
The next several hours passed uncomfortably in Hjerim. Jonna went downstairs and spent some time talking with Lydia, Serana, and the giantess. Sigrun didn't leave the upper room; perhaps out of some foreboding sense that her little argument had been heard by the others in the house. She feared to face any of them, especially after Jonna's reaction. Every silent moment, she expected one of them to appear and start giving her more trouble for her decision. She wondered if, perhaps, Jonna was telling on her to those downstairs. Shame welled up within her: she had acted selfishly in giving into her desires under the pretense of relieving her own suffering. She feared what Erik would say, if he had heard what had been said. While her fears were creating wild scenarios in which Jonna was loudly blabbing her secret to the others, she hoped that she had the tact to remain silent. Yet they had been quite loud: what if he had heard? Perhaps she could say that he took her by force, and so never have to face the uncomfortable consequences of her actions.
Loud footsteps were heard coming up the stairs to the upper room. Sigrun was now in the master bedroom, sitting upon the straw bed. Into the bedroom there now strode Eirik: a fire was burning in his brown eyes that filled her with dread.
"Da..." she muttered. He held up his hand, calling for her to be silent.
"Is it true?" he asked.
"Is...what true?" she asked slowly.
"I heard what you two were talking about," he replied.
"Why were you listening?" She immediately regretted saying those words.
"Is it true?!" Eirik roared. His voice caused the boards of Hjerim to rattle, as though he were speaking with the Thu'um.
"Y-Yes," she stammered meekly.
The fire in his eyes burned hotter and with such intensity that Sigrun feared she would catch fire just by him looking at her. She felt infinitely small and helpless under his gaze.
"How did I fail you?" he asked. "That my own daughter played the whore?"
"I am not a whore!" Sigrun retorted.
"Be silent!" Eirik shouted. "You're already in enough trouble as it is, and now you besmirch our honor?"
"Your honor, you mean!" she replied, trying to act brave. That only made it worse.
"My honor?! What about your honor? What about the honor of your mother? You shamed us all with your actions!"
"You wouldn't understand!" she replied.
"Oh, I wouldn't understand?" he asked. "I understand perfectly! You're not the first person to enjoy a good fuck..." He stopped as he said those words, a look of realization and disgust in his face. His hands opened and closed, but then he turned back to Sigrun: the look in his eyes was unclear, half between anger and disappointment. "Lie down on the bed."
"What?"
"You shall be punished for your behavior."
"I will not!"
"You are my daughter, and you will do as I say!"
"I'm almost eighteen! I won't be taken over your knee like a child!"
"Sigrun..."
"You yourself just said that you did it too! Why should I be punished for something you enjoyed yourself?"
"Yes, I did it, alright?!" Eirik retorted, anger rising in his voice. He paused, his chest heaving as he tried to master himself. "I did it, and I suffered greatly for it. You must too."
"I will not..." But Sigrun was cut off mid-sentence. Eirik ran at her, and she leaped off of the bed. Her heart was racing as she knew now that he was serious: the same look was in his eye that he bore when he was in battle.
"Look, look! I learned my lesson!" she lied. "I'll never have sex again. I promise!"
"How do I know you're not just telling me what I want to hear?"
"Da, please! Can't we just talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about?"
"You're better than this! You wouldn't raise a hand against your own daughter, would you?"
"You must be punished."
"Why? I already said I wouldn't do it again!"
"As a warning," Eirik returned. "And a reminder."
"A reminder of what?"
"To keep you from turning into me."
"You don't need to beat me for it! Please, show mercy."
"I don't, do I? And what do you expect me to do, huh? Just stand by and passively accept you playing the whore?"
With this, Eirik seized Sigrun by the back of her head and threw her onto the bed. With his other hand he struck her hind-quarters three times as hard as reasonable. He let her go, but his eyes were fixated on his right hand. Bjorn had been too old and weak to discipline him, but Signy had broken more than one broomstick across his backside when he had been insolent: Sven was much harsher, as he wasn't blood-related. Either way, he had buried such memories deep inside him, thinking little of them until now. Now he had raised his hand against his own child. Sigrun had now wrested herself free from his grasp and was punching his chest as hard as she could, screaming and crying and cursing him.
"You bastard!" she shouted. "You sick, hateful, abusive, son of a b*tch!"
"Don't you talk about my mother that way!" Eirik roared; once again the walls of the house quaked. Sigrun balked at his voice, and stopped hitting him. Awkward silence filled the space between them. Sigrun's eyes watered, but Eirik could not look at her in this state.
"Your Mother will be up here soon," he said. "Tell her what you've done."
"Why do I have to tell her?" Sigrun asked.
"You made this mistake," he replied. "You have to be the one to tell her."
"What if I was ra..."
"Don't lie to me!" Eirik retorted. "I heard what you said. It didn't sound like rape to me." He calmed down. "Now, you're going to tell her what you've done." He sighed. "She'll give you much more than I did, I fear." Eirik turned about and walked out of the room, sighing heavily to himself as he left.
Several tense minutes later, Mjoll entered the room and Sigrun told her what had happened between her and Erik: her response was even greater than Eirik's. She roared loud enough for her namesake - though not quite as loudly as the Dragonborn - and berated Sigrun even longer. What was said need not be repeated, nor need it be stated that Mjoll was less restrained when it came to punishing her daughter. Needless to say, Sigrun was feeling sincerely remorseful when Mjoll was done: as well as unspeakably sore.
Towards evening, everyone prepared to eat downstairs in the main hall. Sigrun was called down to join them, but sulked in the master bedroom. Erik also sulked himself, and avoided Eirik at all costs. Eventually Sigrun did come down to eat, but she avoided the gaze of her Mother and Father. They ate in silence, and said very little to each other while they ate. After many minutes of silence, Eirik finally spoke.
"It's good that you've returned, Sigrun," he said. "Tomorrow, I leave for Whiterun. I want you in my sortie: you and Jonna, and perhaps your giant friend as well."
"I'll speak to her," Sigrun sheepishly replied.
"What about Erik?" Jonna asked.
"Don't," Sigrun hissed beneath her breath.
"I'll get him armed and placed in the army," Eirik replied. "The war begins, and we'll need every last one of us."
After they ate, they betook themselves to bed. Sigrun slept on the ground floor with Talvi: Erik avoided her as well, and said nothing at all during dinner. The three guests who hadn't been introduced were now on their way out of Hjerim before any one could ask who they were or what they were doing. Silence filled the house as they all attempted to go to sleep. Sigrun remained awake, a deep sense of unease about her over what had taken place. In this state she was found by the two people who she least expected to bump into: Serana and Lydia.
"What's wrong?" Lydia asked. "Can't sleep?"
"I take it you heard everything that happened earlier today," she muttered.
"Yeah," Lydia replied. "So, how was it?"
"How was...what?" Sigrun asked.
"Eirik can do as he likes," Lydia replied. "But we're not him. How was it?"
"You really wanna know?"
"Yes," Lydia said.
"No," Serana added simultaneously. "I'm more concerned about you."
Sigrun sighed. "I'll be fine. Where's Aela?"
"She stepped out of here once the shouting started," Serana said. "She seemed quite uncomfortable around me, for some reason. Must be a werewolf thing."
The two dark-haired women sat on either side of Sigrun. Serana periodically looked over at Talvi, marveling to see the half-giant, while Lydia's attention was on Sigrun.
"So?" Lydia repeated. "How was it?"
"Why do you want to know?" Sigrun asked.
"Just curious."
"Haven't you ever had sex before?"
"Yes," Lydia shrugged. "It's not that big a deal to me, though."
"Why's that?"
"Trained as a soldier since I was young," Lydia began. "Always picked on for being a scrawny little runt. Ended up in more fights than I'd like to mention: even won some of them. Took quite a few blows, many of them right here..." She gestured to her stomach. "...and then Danica Pure-Spring tells me that I took too many blows there and can't have children. So it's not as much a bother to me."
"I'm sorry," Sigrun returned.
"It's no worry," Lydia replied. "I have you and Jonna, and this way I get to be a proud and protective aunt rather than a stern parent."
"Same as me," Serana stated. "Except I have necromancy and blood magic."
Sigrun yawned widely. "I'm not feeling up to sharing."
"Fine," Lydia returned. "Then let's talk you to sleep. Tell me all about Solstheim. I've never been there myself."
"Solstheim?" Serana asked. "I've heard stories about that place. It was said that it was once connected to Skyrim by way of the Karth River and the Hjaalmarch: a great battle happened between two priests of the dragon cult that cast the island off of the mainland and sent it adrift on the Sea of Ghosts. Have you been there? What's it like?"
Sigrun told the two eager listeners all that she had seen and heard about Solstheim. Serana was intrigued by the Stones they had found, while Lydia found the stories of the Thirsk warriors more interesting. She talked and talked until it seemed that she could talk no more and her eyes became heavy. At last she leaned backwards and fell asleep against Talvi's side and remembered no more.
Morning arose dull and gray in the sky of Eastmarch: it was the eleventh day of Sun's Dawn. At Hjerim, the little party was readying for an early start. Sigrun awoke on a large blanket next to the wall where she had fallen asleep. The others were seated at the table eating, and a bowl of steaming stew was lying on a stool nearby where she lay. It was only after a little while that she realized the "large blanket" was Talvi's coat. The giantess was sitting on the floor at one side of the table, eating large amounts of food. As Sigrun's eyes examined the table, she noticed that all of them were dressed for journey and battle: Mjoll was wearing a very savage looking getup that she had never seen her in before, not even yesterday.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Eirik said. "We've been waiting on you. Your soup's getting cold. Eat up, and then get dressed. We've got a long road ahead of us, if we wish to be in Whiterun before tomorrow."
"Dressed?" Sigrun groaned sleepily. "I am dressed."
"The smiths have completed their work on new armor for the Stormcloaks," Eirik said. "You'll be wearing some when we go into battle, along with a few other things. Hurry up! Jonna's already dressed and waiting outside."
Sigrun said nothing as she ate: they were in haste, and she was keeping them. Moreover, she still remembered the events of yesterday and felt awkward talking to any of them. Having finished breakfast, Jonna found her gear sitting against the wall nearby where she had laid that night. In addition to her sword, there was now a heavy suit of armor: this was the new armor that Oengul War-Anvil had designed as per Jonna's request. It consisted of steel gauntlets and pauldrons engraved with the emblem of the Bear, a hauberk of steel rings, and a breastplate of riveted steel lamellar that went down to her knees. It was a rather tight fit, and the rings pulled on her hair as she girded it upon her body; but once she had the over-sized belt bound about her waist, binding both the hauberk and breastplate together, she felt invincible.
"Where's my sword?" she asked.
"Waiting for you at the stables," Eirik said. "Now let's go."
Once Sigrun was girded, Talvi took up her coat, as well as her spear from the wall where it lay, and walked outside. Sigrun then made her way outside and Eirik followed after her. Once they were outside, Sigrun saw Eirik give the keys to the house to the man he had introduced yesterday as Calder: he was his newest huscarl, given to him by Ulfric for his service in ridding Windhelm of "the Butcher", though Eirik admitted that he had little to do with that, other than giving Jonna permission to investigate the matter. He would be keeping Hjerim safe in their absence; which would be needed, considering that Eirik had painted quite a large target on his back, what with, as he told her, his eviction of the Dunmer from Windhelm. Sigrun was surprised and a little impressed to hear this: it now gave an answer to her mind about the chaos she had seen on the docks when she returned.
The two of them made their way from Hjerim to the stables. Few people were to be found on the streets that day, but those who were saluted Eirik or said praises to him. Past the gates they went and across the stone causeway, till they came to the stables. Here Sigrun saw six horses saddled and waiting: Mjoll, Aela, Jonna, and Lydia were already there and mounted on their steeds, but Erik and Serana were nowhere to be found. Talvi came out from the city behind them and started making her way westward down the long path towards the Nightgate Inn. Sigrun quickly examined the gear that had been prepared on her horse: her sword was there, as well as a simple shield of wood and hide with a steel bosse, and a tall spear as well. She climbed onto the saddle, then turned to Eirik and asked him where Erik and Serana now were.
"Erik is already on his way to Dawnstar, to meet up with the warriors of the Pale," Eirik answered. "Your giant friend is also going that way. Serana is going south, to meet with Iona and the warriors of the Rift. We've been planning for this moment, and now, at last, the time has come to enact our plan. One way or another, the war will come to an end."
"With just the ten of us?" she asked.
"From the north and south, we'll move as one," Eirik said. "And try to catch the Legion off-guard. But for us..."
"Da...are you mad at me?"
Eirik leaped up onto his horse and turned to Sigrun. "Why would you say that?"
"Well, because of what you d...what I did."
"You've paid for your actions," he sighed. "That will have to be enough, for now. We're going to war, and such matters will have to be delayed. Now, are you with me?"
"That's why I'm here," she returned.
"Good," Eirik smiled. "Now, let's get a move on! Our road leads to Whiterun!"
They rode all that day, slacking their pace only slightly to take food and water. By evening, they had arrived at the Valtheim Towers. The place had changed since Eirik was last in this area. A garrison of the Stormcloaks were present here, newly installed after Eirik had taken the place while Sigrun was on Solstheim. The garrison that had been sent here had barricaded the pass on both sides of the White River, and the blue banners were flying from the towers. Here the party rested for the night, and they had a little more than a bite of dried meat and a mouthful of water for their fare.
Sigrun could not sleep, for sleepless anticipation burned in her breast for the battle to come. She doubted not that a battle would take place when they came to Whiterun. All that had been told about Whiterun gave her the impression that it was of great importance both to the Empire and the Stormcloaks: it would surely come to blows. She breathed deeply and reminded herself that this was why she had come here: to save Skyrim. She was doing what she had chosen to do, what she had been tasked to do. Yet despite all of this, an uneasy feeling filled her stomach as well.
Since sleep was far from her, she listened intently to all that was going on in the small camp around them. Eirik was in deep discussion with Lydia, Mjoll, and Aela: something he had said wasn't sitting well with them.
"My love," Mjoll said. "I know your heart is in the right place, but this may be going too far."
"What you're talking about," Lydia stated. "This goes back even farther than the Empire. It's part of our culture."
"I'm not so sure if it's 'our' culture," Eirik returned. "It's elven-culture, as has ruled Tamriel for ages. But if we're throwing off the shackles of elvendom, then we might as well do it in full and not in part."
"Some of that might be easier than others," Aela stated. "There are quite a few folk as still use the old names for the gods: Kyne, Stuhn, Shor, and the others."
"Remember what Crixus always said about us," Lydia replied. "What you're suggesting is the eradication of the foundation of Imperial culture. He'd curse you and call you a brute."
"I'm done dealing with Servius Crixus!" Eirik commented. "He can say what he likes: but he didn't nearly lose his head over 'guilty until proven innocent', as I did at Helgen."
"What about his brother?" Lydia asked. "Can you trust him?"
"Jonna trusts him...to a degree," Eirik replied.
"But what if it's not really his brother?" Lydia asked. "What if it's actually him under a false name? You know, he did give you a false name several times before. This could be another one of his tricks."
"It's not a trick," Eirik replied. "I got the truth out of him: he really is our Crixus' brother. As for trusting him, I trust him to play the part that I've set for him. Esbern and Delphine will get him out of Skyrim, and send word to me once they're in Cyrodiil: hopefully we'll be ready when they arrive."
The talk continued on, drifting now towards battle plans that comforted Sigrun: her Father knew what he was doing at least. But all this other talk made her uneasy. Who was this brother of Crixus? And who were Esbern and Delphine? Were these the three that she had seen him spend so much time talking to in private yesterday? And what was he 'going too far' about? The Alessian Doctrines? That was the only place where the phrase 'guilty until proven innocent' could be traced. The cruel tyranny of an elf-worshiping ape-man had held sway over the Empire for centuries, infecting nearly every aspect of life as surely as the elven names for the gods had done. Was Eirik really attempting to dismiss the Alessian Doctrines? Whatever would he put in their place?
Eventually Sigrun's eyes became heavy and she dozed off into an uneasy sleep.
The twelfth day of Sun's Dawn. Bells were ringing in the city of Whiterun; the doors were sealed once again. A company of thirty men now stood in arms at the base of the great stone causeway that led up to the Plains District: all of them were heavily armed with mail and lamellar, with shields in their hands and spears extended in a deadly hedge. Against them were arrayed less than half their number of the hold guards: many were in the north or west, or in Riverwood to the south, undisciplined and uncoordinated. But even if all of them were arrayed here for the defense of Whiterun, they could not match the weapons and armor of the Stormcloaks.
At the head of their company stood Eirik, dressed in dragon-bone armor: his sword he had thrust into the ground near at hand, and a small axe was in his hands. He shouted with a loud voice, calling out for the Jarl of Whiterun: "Balgruuf!" he cried nine times. For a while, there was no answer. At length, however, the gates were opened and a small company of appeared from the gates of the city. The Jarl of Whiterun stood at the head of the company, with his Dunmer huscarl Irileth at his right and his brother Hrongar at his right, and two guards behind him. They stopped a few paces from the army.
"Dragonborn," Balgruuf said to Eirik, disdain in his voice as he spoke. "I expected better of you than to come back here at the head of a band of thugs."
"I knew you were trouble the moment you set foot into Dragonsreach, snow-back," Irileth sneered. "I should have stricken you down then and saved us all the scourge of your worthless presence."
"Do you have no honor?" Hrongar retorted. "First you insult your Jarl and benefactor to his face, then you slander him publicly in the streets, murder the son of his friend, defy his commands, and now you've thrown your lot in with these shiftless scum? Death is too good for you. Why did you even bother coming back?"
"I've come to answer your challenge, Balgruuf," Eirik said. With that, he tossed the axe back towards Balgruuf's feet.
"Name your terms," Balgruuf replied.
"If I win," Eirik began. "You surrender Whiterun to me: you and your family will be allowed safe passage to anyplace in or out of Skyrim of your choice."
"Hah!" Balgruuf shouted. "As if I'd give up my city so easily!"
"There's no need for good Nord blood to be shed," Eirik replied. "Nor for Whiterun to be put to the flame."
Balgruuf was quiet, his brow furrowed in indecision. He realized now that he had put himself into quite a predicament. He had challenged Eirik to a duel, not expecting him to answer it in the way that he had. If he refused Eirik's terms, then it would be a black mark upon his honor. But how could he surrender his city so easily, and to a Stormcloak?
"What if I win, Dragonborn?" he asked.
"If you win," Eirik replied. "My life will be forfeit. That's clearly what your toadies want."
"You have no idea," Irileth sneered. "How many different ways I've dreamed of killing you!"
"I'll also want your Stormcloaks to leave," Balgruuf stated.
"Done," Eirik returned.
"Name your seconds," Balgruuf stated.
"I need no seconds," Eirik replied. "I live or die on my own might."
"Suit yourself," Balgruuf sneered. "Irileth, Hrongar, I name both of you as my seconds."
"Let the duel take place in the Wind District of Whiterun," Irileth stated.
"And none of your Stormcloaks will be allowed inside," replied Hrongar.
This was against the customs of dueling, but Eirik knew little of them and so didn't care. He heaved his sword up, placed it upon his shoulders, and began walking after them. At this, Sigrun broke rank and rose up from the shield-wall to run over to his side.
"Don't go!" she called out.
"You're out of rank, soldier," Eirik returned.
"You let them dictate the place of the duel, in their own city?" Sigrun asked. "This can't be anything but a trap."
"Back to the lines, Sigrun," Eirik sighed. "If you hear me Shout, then storm the city."
He turned back to the long causeway and began to make his ascent. But the words of Sigrun were still in his mind: he was now walking forward into an armed city, ready for war, alone. His only hope that Balgruuf wouldn't try anything once he was within the walls of Whiterun. Yet he had answered the challenge and couldn't go back now. Grimly he strode onward, across the drawbridge and up the cobblestone ramp to the gates. They were opened as he approached, only a little bit, and Eirik was allowed to pass back inside the city. Just inside the Plains District, Eirik found a company of the city guards waiting between him and Balgruuf and his two companions. The doors closed with a sudden and ominous thud.
"Kill him!" Irileth shouted.
"Liar! Coward! Betrayer!" Eirik shouted after Balgruuf, drawing his sword as the guards advanced upon him with their swords and axes in hand.
"You were a fool to answer the challenge," Irileth challenged.
"Have you become the Empire's lapdog?" Eirik asked, ignoring the dark elf. "Betraying trust and tradition to avenge yourself? Or are you afraid of single combat?"
"Bold words for a rebel and a traitor!" Balgruuf returned, his eyes flaring in wrath barely contained.
"You owe this traitor nothing, my jarl!" Irileth said. "Let us kill him here and now, and send his pack of reavers running to the hills!"
"Fight me fairly, Balgruuf!" Eirik retorted. "Or I will burn your city down about your ears!"
"He's lying!" Irileth stated. "Kill him now!"
"Am I?" Eirik returned. "You know how I summoned a dragon to your high hall. I have but to Shout and that dragon will return to your city of wood. Do you wish to see your city burn on account of your treachery?"
"Let those be your last words!" Balgruuf retorted. With that he drew his sword and strode between Irileth and Hrongar to meet Eirik.
"My jarl, this is madness!" Irileth said.
"If you wish him dead, brother, let the men do it now," Hrongar added.
"Silence!" Balgruuf roared. "I grow tired of all this bickering. He threatens my city, then he shall die!"
So the duel began. They were, to some degree, evenly matched: Balgruuf was lean and tall, clad in steel plate armor, and he had been trained to fight since he was a boy. Eirik himself was tall and powerfully built, and had hewn trees with axes since a youth, both in Falkreath and in Bruma, and wore armor made of the bones of dragons. More than this, Eirik's sword was nearly as tall as he himself was, and could keep Balgruuf at a distance. Over and anon, he would fend off blows with his blade, holding it with both of his hands.
Seven times they exchanged blows, while the hold guards, Irileth, and Hrongar kept a circle around them. Neither of them could master the other, for though Eirik's skill was in his great strength, Balgruuf was strong himself and had fighting skill on his side. Blows were parried, or slid and skipped off of their armor. Neither seemed to be able to cause the other to shed anything more than sweat. Ever and anon, Irileth and Hrongar would shout encouraging words to their lord, urging him to kill Eirik, and seeking desperately for an opening. But the guards said nothing, neither did they cheer on either side: they respected their lord who was lenient overmuch to them, but Eirik was still the Dragonborn, and they feared him for his slaying of Alduin World-Eater. It was too close for them to take one side or another. For their lord was kindly but had little love for the Stormcloaks, and he would punish them if they sided with Eirik. But the Dragonborn was impossibly powerful, and rumor had it that he had even slain Idolaf Battle-Born: they would have to answer to him if he prevailed, and there were other rumors of the little mercy he gave to bandits, Imperials, and the Thalmor.
Balgruuf made as though he would strike Eirik's neck, and Eirik brought up his sword to fend off the blow. But the Jarl feinted and, taking a knee, got up under his enemy and attempted to thrust his sword up into the Dragonborn's armpit, where he was unarmored. But Eirik hadn't been idle; taking hold of his sword with both hands, he caught the edge of Balgruuf's sword on his hilt and began to push down. The Jarl's feint had failed, and now he was caught on his knees, being pressed down as the larger Dragonborn was now pressing down upon him. He tumbled back over, but Eirik was still sure on his feet and brought him down onto his back.
"Do you yield?" Eirik asked.
"Never!" Balgruuf roared.
With that, Eirik pressed the blade of Balgruuf's sword near enough to his neck. The blade was now pressed against his cheek, near the border of his bearded chin.
"Yield!" he repeated.
"Shor curse you!"
Once again Eirik shoved and the blade nicked Balgruuf's cheek, and a small red line appeared.
"Yield!" Eirik repeated again. "You surrendered well enough to the Empire! Why not now?"
"You'll just destroy my city out of spite!" Balgruuf replied. He then shoved his foot up into Eirik's crotch, sending him staggering off of him. Now the wrath of the Dragonborn was unleashed, and he forgot all thought of honor. Swinging his sword as Balgruuf got up, he gave him a great blow to the shoulder. The steel held off the blow, but so great was the force that the Jarl was knocked off his balance and his sword fell out of his hands. Swifter than Balgruuf could recover it, Eirik put his foot on the sword and aimed his at the Jarl.
"Aid me!" he shouted.
Hrongar and Irileth charged at Eirik at once. But Hrongar was not so heavily armored as his brother; Eirik swung his blade and cut off his right hand. He collapsed to the ground, roaring in pain as he clutched his bleeding wrist. Irileth continued her charge, but Eirik thrust the pommel of his sword into her face and sent her back, stunned and seeing double. He then turned back to Balgruuf and placed his foot on his chest and his blade at his throat.
"Stand down!" Eirik challenged. "You're beaten. Surrender."
"Never!" Balgruuf repeated. "I'd sooner die than surrender Whiterun to you, and watch it burned before my very eyes!"
"You know that I would never do that," Eirik retorted. "But perhaps the treacherous fear treachery. You lured me into Whiterun, with no intention of fighting fairly, choosing rather to have your lackeys kill me for you. What did you think would happen?"
"That I'd get rid of you, and save my people," Balgruuf replied.
At this, Irileth had recovered herself and was starting to attack again. Eirik kept his blade at Balgruuf's neck, and the Jarl ordered her to stand down. She disobeyed his orders and kept her hand on her sword, waiting for the moment to strike.
"Then you're a fool as well as a coward and a sell-out," Eirik replied. "I loathe the dragons as much as anyone else in Skyrim, and would not use them for war unless there were no other choice."
"Lies!" Balgruuf retorted. "I knew you would do it, even before you threatened to do so. Your words only confirmed my fears."
"Do you think I'm like Ulfric?"
"You've certainly thrown your lot in with that bastard."
"I took Riften without bloodshed," Eirik repeated. "And I intend to do the same with Whiterun. No one need die: not even you or your companions."
"Liar!" Hrongar roared. "You cut off my hand! I want your head!"
"Enough!" Eirik shouted with his own voice: he could not use the Thu'um, or else battle. "Now, then, Balgruuf: I have beaten you and your treachery and answered your challenge. Now I want you, your family, and your two lackeys out of this city before nightfall."
Balgruuf snarled, but didn't give an answer. "There will be a reckoning, Dragonborn. And when that day comes for you, what then? You're a traitor to me, to the Empire, and to all of the people of Whiterun. Your precious Ulfric will spread his rebellion too thin, and what then? We need the Empire..."
"For a man of few words," Eirik interjected. "You sure do have a lot to say. But you're wrong: Skyrim does not need the Empire, but the Empire does need Skyrim."
"Speak not the words of Ulfric Stormcloak in my ears, I have no use for them," Balgruuf grumbled. "But when you stand before the Whale-Bone Bridge, and are called to answer for your life, what will you say about this?"
"I've already a place for me for slaying Alduin," Eirik replied. "What will you say about selling out the soul of Skyrim? The Graybeards named me Ysmir, Dragon of the North, and I ask you, Balgruuf of Whiterun: by what right do you claim lordship over Whiterun?"
Those of the guards who were Nords gasped in shock. Even Hrongar looked on in newfound terror. They knew the legends of old Wulfharth the Undying, the Grey Spirit, the guardian protector of mankind, especially Skyrim. Now the Dragonborn was calling himself this, and they were forced to come to grips with the words of the Graybeards - for none of them missed when the earth shook and the Throat of the World echoed with thunder as they summoned him to them. Only Irileth was unmoved, and she scoffed at Eirik's words.
"Your words speak of a myth, a fairy tale told at bedtime for children and the ignorant," she replied. "The Old Tribunal destroyed Ysmir ages ago: do you think to cow me into submission with your empty words?" She spat at Eirik, and blood spewed from her lips as well as spittle.
"I am a Nord, a son of Skyrim," Balgruuf replied, looking at Eirik with awe and disdain. "My father was Jarl, and by the law of the Empire my place was assured. Nord blood built the Empire, Nord blood sustains the Empire: we Nords are the Empire!"
"No," Eirik said, shaking his head. "We Nords were the Empire. But the Empire that is forsook the Nords whose blood built and sustained the Empire: and when that happened, the Empire that is lost its soul. You side with the Empire, and therefore you are a Nord no longer. Go now to your Empire, and take the gold you purchased from them with your soul and your honor."
Eirik took his sword from Balgruuf's throat and removed his foot from his breastplate. Balgruuf rose to his feet and told his men to stand down, and then turned to his brother and helped him onto his feet. They would be going to Dragonsreach to prepare their departure. But Irileth was not so easily defeated. Seeing her lord so broken and defeated filled her with wrath. When Balgruuf gave the order to stand down, she did not release her blade. Instead she crept out of sight until she was now standing behind Eirik. Then she struck and charged at Eirik with her sword in hand, aiming to stab him in the back.
But so great was her wrath that her blow did not strike Eirik in his unprotected neck, but instead glanced off the collar of his dragon-bone armor and the blade flew through Eirik's hair off to the right. No other blow came. For now Eirik realized his peril and, turning around, delivered such a blow that the Dunmer huscarl was thrown to the ground.
"Nerevar take you, traitor!" she spat.
"A sword in the back?" Eirik asked. "Is treachery all your kind know?"
"Words from the ass of Ulfric Stormcloak!" she retorted.
"Let her go!" Balgruuf shouted. He had heard the commotion and was now turned about, with Hrongar limping behind him. "She's not yours to slay."
Eirik picked her up by the neck and hoisted her back up to her feet, presenting her to Balgruuf. "She tried to stab me in the back. I suppose she thought it was what I deserved, huh? So why shouldn't I kill her?"
"She saved my life, and for that she has kept my family safe," Balgruuf replied. "Today I repay my debt. Her life is mine, and if you would kill her, then I will fight you to the death."
Eirik looked back between the Jarl and his huscarl. He thought of Lydia, and how she had gone with him as far as Sovngarde, and even defying Balgruuf's command that she be released. He sighed: all of this was making him uncomfortable, and he wished now that he could merely take off her head and be done with it. Instead he shoved her into Balgruuf's arms.
"As you wish," he said. "Take her and be gone. But I warn you, elf: your kind are no longer welcome in Skyrim. Should we win this war, you must either swear alleigance to Ulfric or quit the country. But if we ever meet again, I won't be so merciful with you."
"Nor will I," Irileth retorted. "And when the Empire drives you rebel scum out of this land, I'll enjoy putting you down."
The three of them departed, while the hold guards were aghast and too fearful to do one thing or another. At last Eirik gave the command that the gates be opened, and the signal was given for the band of Stormcloaks to enter the city. Sigrun was amazed to hear what had happened, though she was less enthusiastic about the betrayal of Balgruuf; even in her time, her Father had spoken very highly of him, moreso after his tragic demise.
"It's a good thing we won through, though," she said. "While you were gone, we saw a company marching eastward across the tundra."
"A company?" Eirik asked. "How many were there?"
"No one knows for sure, but there were many of them," Sigrun replied. "Their banners were red."
"The Legion?" Eirik gasped. "So there will be war indeed." He sighed. "Are you ready to fight for what we've taken?"
"Aye, da," she nodded. "I am ready."
He then turned to the hold guards and shouted with a loud voice. "Listen well! I am Eirik the Dragonborn, and by right of combat, have become Jarl of Whiterun. My first command to you all is this: man the battlements! The enemy comes for Whiterun!"
(AN: So this chapter ended up being another long one. Plenty for all of you to enjoy, hopefully.)
(Lots of stuff in it. For one, the whole reaction to Sigrun's actions. I fear you all might take offense at Eirik's reaction: I felt it was merited, considering he suffered quite a bit for his own infidelity in The Dragonborn and the Lioness, and he saw Sigrun becoming like him. Therefore he did as Smallville's John Schneider said Jonathan Kent should have reacted when he walked in on Clark and Lana in bed together.)
(Another thing happening in this was the duel. I wanted to address something that I feel Game of Thrones dropped the ball on [among other things] in order to justify having a 5'1" young girl beat a 6'3" grown woman. There shall be one more duel of similar kind, that will put this issue to bed in finality, but I cannot say who will be in it or when it will be.)