Lydia had been nauseous the whole trip. Once we finally arrived at the Stormcloak camp, she had heaved her entire lunch. Cassius had insisted that she rest, but she wouldn't hear it. She wanted to fight.
That was the day before, though, and this day was the day we'd been waiting for. The battle had come at last, and Lydia wasn't about to miss it.
The three of us stood before Galmar, who seemed more determined than ever to fight. Something in the wagon, a memory or a thought, had disturbed him. Now, he wanted blood, and it was ever evident on his pale face and sweaty brow.
"This is it, men!" he cried, earning cheers from all around us. "They say that our cause is false and that we are nothing more than thieves, thugs, and murderers. But no! We are farmers! We are craftsmen! We are sons and daughters of shopkeepers, maid servants, and soldiers!"
Behind us, men launched catapults of fire toward the city, just as they did for Whiterun. I could hear screaming from within the walls, men and women running for cover. It deterred my heart for only a moment, then I heard Galmar's words.
"We are the true sons and daughters of Skyrim! And we have come this far because our cause is true. Because we fight as one. And because our hearts are bursting with anger! This time is different, men. They expect an ambush. They will not surrender as mercilessly as Balgruuf the Greater did. Men will die, buildings will burn, and through the smoke will Ulfric Stormcloak arise. Through the death, Ulfric Stormcloak will be reincarnated. Through the loss of one city, a new country will emerge, brought to its people by the true sons and daughters and handed to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself!"
A great cry of men rose up as the flames continued to soar through the air, great stripes of reds and oranges painting the night sky and illuminating the fields around us. I stared up at the sky, listening to the echo of Galmar's husky voice as it reverberated off of the trees and rocks around us, and I thought of Jergen. This is what he left us for, the battle, the comradery, or the blood of others. I wished I could have asked him which it was.
"They have barricades, but we will tear through them and the Imperials behind them! Everyone on me! Let's show them what true Nords look like!"
And just like that, I was charging into battle. I don't know what it was about this battle specifically, but it was different from taking Whiterun. When we fought for my city, my hometown, it was easier to think of all of the things that would justify our march. Jarl Balgruuf asked for a fight, and we delivered. Now, we were taking a city by force.
I wasn't sure why that made a difference to me. A city is a city. But the screams of women from within the wall made my heart ache. Just fight, Vilkas. Don't think, just fight.
But I couldn't just fight, and honestly, it was almost as if I didn't. I can only recall that battle from a viewpoint above my own body. I didn't have to think, and I just watched myself fighting from somewhere else in this world. I watched as I trailed behind Cassius and Lydia. I watched as I ducked as fire flew toward us. I watched as the gates were opened, and Imperial soldiers began to fall at our hand.
After that, I can only remember certain parts.
I remember seeing Lydia run ahead of the group as we dispersed, her blade held up above her head to deliver a crushing blow to a legionnaire. The man staggered back and hit the railing of the city, and Lydia swooped down to grab his leg, pulling it out from beneath him and tossing him over the rail into the water.
I remember a blond Nord who was at the camp with us, draped in a blue Stormcloak cuirass as I was and speaking in an accent much like my own. He held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and I watched as he slammed his sword against his own shield, enticing the Imperials with vicious shouts.
I remember Cassius, whose shouts were twice as vicious as the Nord beside me. He was simply strolling through the center of town, shouting FUS at Imperials who charged at him, tossing them off of the side and into the water below.
I remember a man running toward me, easily half the size of me, who I had simply swung my greatsword at with minimal effort, and it had opened his chest and spilled the contents of his stomach at my feet.
I remember Lydia also spilling the contents of her stomach, in a different manner, throughout the battle. At one point, she was wobbling and leaning against the side of the wall near a cemetery as an Imperial soldier charged at her. I remember running to her, jumping in front of her and taking the blow the Imperial meant to deliver to her. He struck me in the left shoulder with colossal force, but before I could stagger back and assess the blood waterfalling to my feet, I had tackled him. I hit him low, bringing him to the ground and driving his own blade through his chest. I had stood, clutching my shoulder, and carried Lydia away from the scene.
I remember Cassius shouting IIZ as several Imperials came his way, and as they froze and hit the ground, he had laughed with booming volume, cracking thunder through the sky. He had stomped on their frozen throats, cracking their flesh and severing their heads. He had kicked one like a ball and hit another Imperial in the head.
I remember arrows firing at me and Lydia, but I had ducked just in time, cradling her weak form to my chest. Though we were spared, the arrow landed in the chest of a Stormcloak soldier right behind me, and he fell to the ground. I had stared for a moment, feeling overwhelming guilt sweep through my gut, but Lydia had yelled at me. "Keep moving, Vilkas! Keep moving!"
I remember Cassius' face when he saw me carrying his wife, heard his heartbeat pick up in his chest. He had run to us, taking his wife from my arms and putting her on her feet behind him. He outstretched his arm to block her from the flames that ejected from his lips. A stream of molten anger set at least six men up in flames, and they rolled around on the docks of Riften trying to extinguish themselves.
I remember what Cassius had yelled at his wife: "Damnit, Lydia! I told you this wasn't safe for you!" She had countered: "It's not safe for any of us, moron!" They had kissed.
I remember Galmar striding through the chaos around him without an ounce of remorse on his face. I didn't even see him lift a blade, though his sword was coated in crimson admission. He nodded to Cassius, then toward Mistveil Keep.
Able to reclaim my body after that, control my own actions, I had joined the three headed to the keep. We climbed the steps to the, in comparison, small quarters that belonged to the Jarl. Cassius had spit flames at the banners flapping in the wind as we passed them.
Inside, we were greeted by a large man who bore Nordic features but greatly resembled a centurion in size. He rushed toward us, but for whatever reason, it was me who he centered in on. He had a small blade in his massive hand, but ultimately, he was fighting with fists.
I ducked as he threw a punch, swooping under his arm and kicking him in the back of his leg. His knee buckled and he hit the floor. I jumped on his back, gripping the back of his hair to lift his head off of the floor and place a blade at his throat.
"Wait! Stop!" a woman's shrill voice rose up in the room. She came out from her hiding place behind the wall, this man seeming to be her only defense. "Don't kill him! Maul, are you alright?"
The man beneath me grumbled. "I'm fine, my Jarl."
The woman scoffed. "If you're alright, then why aren't these intruders dead? You had one job, Maul, and you've failed miserably!"
Cassius stepped toward the woman. "Maven Black-Briar? I'm afraid your reign on this city has come to an end. Now why don't you hand over that little circulet and the papers on the table back there, and we'll get you back to your meadery where you…well, honestly I don't think you belong there either."
"I'll do no such thing!" Maven said through her teeth. Her voice was particularly annoying to me, for whatever reason. "This is my city. I have connections you couldn't even dream of having."
Cassius laughed at her. "It's not your city anymore, Black-Briar. The Reach belongs to Jarl Ulfric now."
Maven cackled a disgusting laugh. "Listen here, you nub. I don't know who you think you are, but I can assure you—"
Her sentence was cut short as Lydia lost her patience and decked Maven in the nose. Maven cried out, staggering backwards into her throne. She covered her face, blood seeping from between her fingers. The man under me wiggled, but I pressed the blade more firmly to his neck, and he was still.
Lydia leaned down to her, keeping her face inches from Maven's. "It's not your city anymore, you pompous bitch. I want the papers and the circulet, and I want them in my hand right now."
Maven stared at Lydia for a moment, then she removed her circulet and handed it to Lydia. A man from the room behind Maven's throne emerged, handing Lydia the papers from the table as well. I hoped the papers were important because this was the most uncomfortable exchange I'd ever seen.
Lydia nodded. "Great. See, it's not difficult to cooperate." She stood and pointed to the exit. "Now get out of Laila's Keep."
Maven glared, but she and her people left anyway. I released the man as Maven Black-Briar passed him, and he followed behind them. Once they were outside, I could hear Maven spouting orders again.
Lydia handed the circulet and the papers to Galmar, who smirked and nodded. "Good work, Battle-Maiden."
Cassius smiled sideways at me. "Battle-Maiden. I like that."
Lydia nodded, looking around at all of us, then at Galmar. "I like that too."
