Note: I'd appreciate feedback on the 'nobody''s character, i.e. whether he's likable, personal feelings, if he's interesting or if you find yourself drifting off whenever reading a part with him, etc. I'd like for him to play an important role later on (and no, most likely not as a love interest) but I don't want to off readers by doing so. Any feedback is much appreciated!

xxx

Upon returning from her marginally successful hunt, Thorunn returned to the Blue Palace dressed in rags she'd picked off of one of her victims. She returned to human form satisfied and bloated, her muscles and bones still aching from the excruciating transformation but relaxed. It would be another couple weeks before she had to kiss the moon again.

Her first transformation had easily been the most painful moments of her life. Her bones had never broke and reformed like that, immaculate and unblemished from the wolf. Her bones had always been more prone to breakage since then, but that was typical of a werewolf- human bones simply paled in comparison, and did not take kindly to the wolf eating at its marrow.

It was easier now, though, or rather, tolerable. The migraines, the restless sleep, the constant aching had all become background noise for Thorunn at this point.

After she'd changed back into the silk robe Ulfric had prepared for her, she climbed into bed next to him, carefully so as not to disturb his rest. He got little enough as it was. In the morning, she'd wake to his warmth and tell him about the journey, from walking out on Commander Maro, to the deaths of Tinsley and Niket, to the techniques of the assassin she'd picked up on while dueling him. The king would need to know, should the assassin challenge him or attempt a ballsy escape.

Thorunn did not wake by Ulfric's side.

Instead, she was laying curled up in front of the hearth in the study that the dragon's egg resided in. For a brief moment upon opening her eyes, she panicked, not knowing where she was or what she was doing here. She relaxed when she saw the flames and the egg resting within, its scaled surface gleaming. The egg's colors were a mix of orange and gold and red, the tint shifting when tilted into the light. Thorunn slowly leaned up, propping her weight up on her elbow, staring into the dancing flames.

She wanted to touch it. Reach into the fire bare-handed and remove the egg, cradle it to her like it was her own child. She didn't worry about it losing warmth, trusting the fire within her to kindle it. Losing track of her thoughts, she reached forward, the blazing heat creeping closer and closer to her skin. Her hand was close enough to brown when she heard the door open, to which she yanked her hand back, wondering what she was thinking.

She turned her head, finding a distressed Ulfric standing in the doorway. "You did not return to me last night," he stated angrily. "Do you not realize how much you worry me when you do that? What are you doing here?"

She furrowed her brow, perplexed by his anger. She didn't know what she was doing, in all honesty. She turned her head back towards the fire as if it held answers. "I do not know," she said quietly, tilting her head slightly. "I did return to you. Apparently I... did not stay."

He sighed, walking over to her with his anger cooling. He effortlessly pulled her to her feet, still holding onto her hands after she stood. "This egg... I believe it is doing something to you. Did the Greybeards answer your plea?"

"They did," she told him. "A mother bear cannot give you answers regarding human children, they'd said. Cryptic messages are their only use." She knew the message's meaning, of course. Essentially, they were telling her that they knew nothing of dragon eggs and that she was looking in the wrong place.

Ulfric looked down thoughtfully, pressing his lips together. "Perhaps they are telling you to seek out a dragon. Paarthurnax, maybe?"

"He seems to be the only viable option," she said, humoring the idea, "but we are not in any state to mount a journey to High Hrothgar. We can deal with it once this Dark Brotherhood maelstrom is dealt with."

He sighed, conflicted but defeated. "Yes. Speaking of which, the council has decided that the best way to approach this is to publicly display the assassin. Can we count on him to accept his crime?"

That Ulfric assumed Thorunn would know such a thing spoke numbers. She knew the answer. "Yes. He is not a man entirely without honor."

"Good. Should he not plead guilty, we will bear witness to his crimes. It will be enough to tide the public until we can acquire a written statement." He smoothed over his tunic. "Prepare yourself. His trial begins at midday. His execution will proceed once we have everything solidified."

Thorunn nodded shortly.

She'd dressed in armor for the occasion rather than finery. After Vittoria Vici's wedding, she didn't quite trust any public event to be free of battle. Besides, everyone in Skyrim knew what her nature was, and that was to fight. To see her in armor was not something out of the ordinary. She'd chosen steel armor with a dark blue cloak draping over her shoulder. Her hair was pinned back with many braids, as befits a Nord. At her belt was an axe and a dagger, and at her gauntlet was a shield beholding the Stormcloak coat of arms.

Much to her surprise, she did not take pleasure in seeing the assassin in the state he was in. He was in filthy rags, his blond hair matted and his eyes hooded. Bruises coated any skin visible to the eye and blood stained his tunic, all signs of torture. As he was dragged onto the stage, he had the look of a man who'd lost hope. Accompanying him on the stage was Thorunn herself, the High King, Galmar Stone-Fist, and several kingsguard.

Below were the people of Solitude among others that had came to the city to bear witness to the grim event. Many bore signs of Empire support, rather it be a red cloak or the Imperial sigil stitched into their clothes. The one thing they all had in common was the look of hunger for justice on their faces.

"People of Skyrim," began Ulfric, voice ringing out among the silently brooding crowd. "I bring before you the true murderer of Vittoria Vici. This man proves that the Stormcloaks do not stand behind this atrocious crime. The Stormcloaks do not bow to the Empire but nor do we seek to needlessly blemish their honor." What little honor they have, Thorunn would have added, but she nor Ulfric dared implement the Stormcloaks further by openly slandering the Empire.

Ulfric gestured to the man with his head bowed and his knees bent. "Before you stands a Dark Brotherhood assassin. I would ask your name, man."

The nobody said nothing. Thorunn couldn't say she was surprised.

"He asks your name, man," Galmar echoed in a growl from behind them, louder.

Nothing but a glare to the ground.

Ulfric clenched his jaw. "We will have it yet. Do you confess to your crimes?"

There was a pause while everyone held their breath. "I confess," said the nobody, low and dark.

"Very well. Would anyone object to this man's implication?" Ulfric's eyes searched through the crowd, darkening whenever his eyes landed on an Imperial bearer. Unfortunately for him, he could not fight for freedom and simultaneously damn those who would speak out against him.

No man spoke. Ulfric gave them forty seconds to gather and voice their objections, but none came. "With my blessing, this assassin's execution will go through in one week's time. Thank you for attending, and Talos bless you." He turned and gestured for the guards to handle the nobody, of which they did without question.

The crowd began dispersing. A few lingered to watch until the humiliated prisoner was out of sight, others stayed until Ulfric was out of sight. Thorunn could pick out bits and pieces of their chatter. "I think it's a farce," said one woman with an Amulet of Akatosh around her neck. "A set-up forged by Ulfric to make it look like it was not the Stormcloaks who did this. Well, they did, I tell you. They did." Another man spoke of justice: "I hope that assassin rots in Oblivion. He deserves no less, slaying a woman on her wedding day no less."

From what Thorunn gathered, the general public accepted that the Dark Brotherhood was behind the murder and not the Stormcloaks. Thorunn returned to the palace feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but she made no mistake. Traitors lurked in shadows untouched by goodness, dark secrets hid in the crevices of smiles, and the times ahead were black indeed.