The trek back to Solitude was long and tedious. Thorunn had fully expected the nobody to make several escape attempts, but much to her surprise, he made no effort to run away. Instead, he rode quietly on the horse next to her, his wrists shackled with Thorunn holding the reins of his mare. That mare once belonged to Ser Niket. While she was still in shock regarding the ordeal, she knew she had to remain focused on the living. She had no choice but to make do with what she had.

Occasionally, she and the nobody would exchange small talk. "Do you enjoy slaying dragons? Isn't that similar to killing your kin?" he'd asked at some point as they rode along the path next to Lake Ilinalta.

"I do not take pleasure in it, no," she answered honestly.

"Then how did you kill so many?"

While she gathered up a response, she stared at the horizon ahead. Hills, cobblestone pathways, green and orange grasses, patches of various flowers; all these things awaited the road ahead. "Before I slayed Alduin, he'd been wielding some sort of sinister magic to command the dragons to attack cities and any breathing thing they passed. I enjoyed killing dragons then, believing they deserved nothing less than the same fate their victims suffered. But after Alduin was destroyed, something changed in them- they're almost docile now, attacking only when provoked or when they need to hunt.

"Have you ever seen a dragon fly overhead?" she asked him suddenly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"I have not been so lucky," he responded.

She nodded, expecting his answer. "It's fleeting, but it's an intense moment. They could destroy you and the land you walk on just by breathing, but they don't. If there is ever a balance in peace and war, it's in this moment."

He went quiet. For some time, the only sound accompanying them was the hooves of the horses. Torch bugs were starting to appear as the sun begin to set, painting the sky with orange and yellow hues. "That sounds extraordinary," he said with unexpected genuineness.

She wasn't sure why she'd told him. He was going to die, that much was for certain; what harm was there in giving him his last tidbits of company? They rode on, eventually stopping at an inn for the night. Thorunn gave a few coins to a sellsword to watch over the nobody while she slept, though she doubted she needed to. When she woke, the assassin was still there, shackled and sleeping peacefully on the floor next to the bed.

After breakfast, they were moving again. This time, they spoke of their toughest fights. Thorunn learned that the nobody deemed their duel against each other his most painful. Thorunn wanted to tell him he didn't know the beginning of pain; transforming into a werewolf was the single most excruciating experience for the human body. Bones broke and fractured, reforming new, stronger and bigger and reshaped bones. But she couldn't tell the nobody that, not even when they were on his way to his death.

"Will I learn your name before your death?" she asked him as they neared their second evening. They'd spent the day talking of anything and everything, neither of them preferring the silence that crept up whenever they stopped speaking. Thorunn had been in too many battles to ever want a silent moment. In war, silence meant the calm before the storm. She imagined the nobody wouldn't want to spend his last days to himself either.

"Perhaps," he responded. Throughout the day, his tone had remained conversational and even friendly, but now it had adopted its usual distance. Thorunn chose not to comment.

Solitude had only been without the Dragonborn for just shy of two weeks. With a quickened heart rate, Thorunn remembered that her engagement to Ulfric would be cemented in only a few day's time, if that. She imagined it would be put off in favor of dealing with the Dark Brotherhood menace, but after having waited so long, she could stand another week.

The guards immediately came to her aid when they saw she was with a prisoner. Thorunn realized she had forgotten he was a prisoner at all, almost objecting when the guards took him away. She forced herself back into that cool exterior, giving herself a reminder as to who she was, who he was, and why he was here. She dismounted her stallion and handed the reins to the stablemaster outside the gates, then followed behind the guards hauling the assassin into the city.

It would only take a couple weeks for word to spread all over Skyrim. Thorunn could hear the words on the lips of wanderers already: After being accused of ordering his agents to slay the Emperor's cousin, Ulfric Stormcloak takes hostage who he claims to have been the true assailant: A Dark Brotherhood assassin.

At least it would get them off the backs of the Stormcloaks. Thorunn would have to inform Ulfric that the two men he'd sent with her were dead. She decided she would leave out the part where she was the one to accidentally sink her blade into Niket's life. As the gates opened, she saw that Ulfric had been awaiting her return, dressed in a simple green doublet embroidered with silver Stormcloak sigils along the hems, black trousers tucked into leather black boots, and a heavy velvet silver cloak that draped over his shoulder and fastened with a jeweled brooch.

A stark contrast to Thorunn's traveling furs that she had yet to change out of. They'd gathered enough blood, sweat, and filth to make her look like a lowly peasant. The guards halted in front of the High King, shoving their prisoner forth for the man to have a look at. Thorunn lingered behind, not having yet been seen by her would-be betrothed. Ulfric said words to the assassin that Thorunn could not make out, a stern and kingly look in his eye that reminded Thorunn of why she supported his reign. His right hand rested on the hilt of the axe in his belt.

Once he was done saying what he needed to say to the now-prisoner, he shoved him back to the guards, and the men began dragging him down Solitude's length. Only with the men out of the way did Ulfric catch sight of Thorunn, and palpable relief flooded his expression as he rushed forth to take her in his arms, his finery be damned. She reacted instinctively, wrapping her arms around him and breaking down her exterior for a few moments of vulnerability to melt into him. She didn't mind that the entire marketplace had eyes on them, gossiping in hushed tones behind their hands.

It didn't matter if the public knew of their relations now. All of Skyrim would know soon enough. Thorunn was first to pull away, but she lingered to exchange a warm smile and a fond look before she stepped in stride with him on their way back to the Blue Palace.

"Would you indulge me of the details of your prolonged journey, dii krein?" he asked conversationally as they walked, Ulfric's kingsguard not far behind.

"Soon," Thorunn told him darkly, though her gloved fingers brushed against his reassuringly. "I need to rest and regain my strength, and then I need to hunt." The wolf in her was growing anxious. It wouldn't be long before the nightmares and the overwhelming urge to sink her teeth into flesh returned.

"Of course," Ulfric responded understandingly. "I will prepare a bath and a change of clothes for you when we reach the palace. After that, dinner will be prepared. I can have it delivered to the bed if you desire."

Thorunn didn't know how he managed to make even hapless doting sound dignified. "No, the bath and dinner will be enough," she said. She was not injured nor sick. She did not need her food delivered to her like a crippled elder.

He nodded curtly, expecting and accepting her decline. He was swift in his promises, telling her to sit in the cushioned recliner while he filled the tub with heated water. He even lit a stick of incense while Thorunn looked on with an amused smile. He helped her remove the sticky furs, undoing the clasps at the back and carefully removing the piece from her beaten shoulders. He didn't touch the amulets around her neck, as she preferred and as he knew.

He left her alone while she bathed, allowing her time to relax after the long and strenuous travel. Riding a horse for hours on end was more tiring than one might think; no thighs were meant to be in that position for so long. Ulfric returned a good thirty minutes later with a silk robe, ready to help his betrothed out of the tub though she did not call on his assistance as she stood and pulled the robe onto her body. She gave him a grateful smile as she stepped out, then placed a tender kiss on his lips that he readily accepted.

His hand found her waist, but he made no move to deepen the kiss or turn the mood sensual. He pulled away with a smile. "Food is waiting. Will you be hunting tonight, or on the morrow?"

"Tonight," she said, moving towards the door of the dimly lit room. The last remnants of day leaked through the pale curtains of the only window in the room. "The wolf is not a patient creature."

"As I've well learned," Ulfric quipped, smiling as he followed her into the dining hall.

Routine fell back into place as gracefully as the sun went down. Galmar Stone-Fist bickered with Thorunn as per usual about anything he could get his hands on, from whether steel or iron was better to whether a bear or a lion would win in a fight. When dinner concluded, Ulfric saw his beloved off with a feathery kiss against the lips, wishing her well on her impending hunt.

The rest of the night was red.