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Chapter 2: Opening Gambit

Solitude, Haafingar

He dismounted his horse, his steel clad boots making contact with the cobblestones with an unforgiving thump, as he stood outside the ancient city's well worn gates. As he stood there gazing memories of happier times of when he stood right here, here with his father, came to mind. The trill and excitement that would coil in his belly at the adventures he, Istlod and Hrogric would share; who would win in their latest battle of Arelynnith and Dagon's hoards, who would get a peck on the cheek from Angela for offering to help with her choirs and most importantly what prank would they pull on poor Sybille this time.

"Much simpler times. Much more innocent times. A more happier time." he mused nostalgically.

It was almost enough to make a man hesitate then abandon his purpose than to soil those memories with what he was about to do. With troubled thoughts and a pleading heart the man closed his eyes, cleared his mind off everything but the reasons for his current position and with a deep cleansing breathe opened his eyes once more. This was it, there was no turning back now.

Raising his arms to his lowered head he removed his steel helmet slowly letting his dirty blonde fall to his broad fur covered shoulders before bringing his eyes up once more but not to the walls of stone before him but to somewhere...somewhere else - to a place that would give his rage.. and courage to march forward. To think that it had really come to this. To fight against brother and ally. To seemingly forget all that had gone before. To tear this country apart in order to save it. It was enough to waver even the most committed of souls but committed he was - he had to be, even with the bile that rose within him. There was no honour in this only painful necessity.

"Damn those cowards! They proclaimed this 'a peace in necessitude to the security and continued glory of the Empire' and that though the terms were demanding even unreasonable, they were in the interests of all Imperial citizens for a lasting peace." he remembered bitterly at the pretty words that covered a betrayal and a foolish betrayal at that. A lasting peace it was not but more a tactical ceasefire with terms on which would split the Empire straight down the middle. He knew this, everyone in the know knew this. The writing was on the wall for those who cared to read it.

It was already happening, in Hammerfell. They left the Empire rather than give up the territory demanded of them by those damn elves and somehow, miraculously, held off their initial invasion. Not that he was completely surprised however, the Redguards are truly great warriors, none better in all of Tamriel in fact - well expect for Nords of course.

He remembered that day of victory well; the jubilant atmosphere in the streets of Windhelm by a population embittered by the impositions of the treaty and the betrayal by their Empire. They finally had something to cheer over even if it was for brothers and sisters in a distant land but it was something - it proved the Dominion was beatable. After all this was the 'second' Aldmeri Dominion, if they were truly fallen gods in mortal form then the first would not have fallen to make way for the current one. In thinking of the Dominion he also remembered the incensed glares from the Thalmor watching from a distance that day and not being able to do a damn thing but clearly looking for one.

"Maybe when is war is over we could..." he pondered before shaking his head, he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to win Skyrim before thinking of any alliance.

"My Jarl?" asked someone to his right breaking him from his thoughts.

"Yes lad, we have lingered here too long" the Jarl replied, answering the young soldier's unasked question.

"We are really going to do this then" stated the gruff voice of a great big burly man to his left.

"Yes Galmar, we are" came the reply, its tone one of resolve.

Galmar did not answer only nodded.

Together the small group entered the gates. The opening gambit was about to be made.

Blue Palace, Solitude, Haafingar

"...and with the aforementioned tax proposals and our intent to increase the number of patrols along trade routes I can happily predict a healthy annual income to our Hold's coffers." a very impressed man finished, clearly pleased with himself. He was in his element holding the attention of all present with his brilliance, his undeniable talent in the art of business and the money made from it. This was his arena, his battlefield, this was where he fought - his weapons, not a sword or spell but words and ideas and he was king...figuratively speaking of course.

"That is welcome news Erikur but I don't merely wish for only Haafingar to prosper from this but all of Skyrim" came the calm voice of the man who sat before his subjects on his throne looking quite relaxed slouched in his chair, his head resting comfortably on hand as he listened to the man before him in interest. Still as promising as these proposals were they did not go far enough in his mind and he truly wanted to do more - his country and kin needed more than healthy coffers.

"With the additional revenue that would be created by these initiatives I wish to improve the infrastructure and security of this country. How many travelling merchants and travellers have fallen prey to marauders, thieves and the wildlife?" he continued throwing his gaze to everyone in his court knowing they knew as well as he did the dangers to those travelling the roads of Skyrim. Divines, one did not even need to travel to be in danger these days not when certain bandits or beasts had the courage, or stupidity, to attack settlements outright and that was only one of Skyrim's many problems.

"How long has Winterhold lain in destitute because of the great collapse? All these years later and nothing has been done - it still looks like the gods forsaken disaster it did when my father and I went to see the damage for ourselves. No we need to think big, think beyond our coffers and this hold, we need to make Skyrim safe again for its people." the High King finished.

"You speak truly my King but to do what you wish would require the support of the other Jarls, some of whom may be hard convincing. Jarl Igmund has been having great troubles of late regarding the Forsworn and has his forces stretched far in countenance thus his ability to act on your goals even if he agrees with them are slim at best." spoke a weathered looking Nord to the King's left as he glanced from his notes to his liege and back again. His advanced years not slowing his sharp mind like it was his body but then again being a steward did not require much physical fortitude beyond that of using a quill.

"Yes I know and all the other holds are stretched thin, including ours regarding manpower and with Winterhold's economy being a near total loss they can't hire more, where it not for the College the place would collapse - no pun intended" the King chuckled mirthlessly.

"And let us not even begin to discuss Riften!" piped up the soft voice of the woman sitting beside the King whom until that point was merely listening to the proceedings with a thoughtful mind. Yes, regardless of what some here in this hall thought she had a mind of her own and one that was not only interested in soirees and babies though she loved those too. Still she wanted to help her husband and her people and she was determined to learn even though she no experience prior and little to none since marrying but one had to start somewhere.

"I don't intent to my dear whatever coin made there would go straight into the pockets of the Thieves Guild" the High King replied, turning to smile at his wife - his ice blue eyes showing his pride at her attempt to become involved. It was something he had been encouraging her to do since their betrothal - he wanted her to stand by his side not behind him as he worked to make Skyrim better.. stronger than it was. He wanted the partnership his parents had had, that loving duo that handled the issues of state and family as a team and with Elisif he knows he has found it.

Casting a quick glance at his wife brought with it the continuous need to remind himself that this is real, that he is married to this beautiful creature and that she loves him just as much as he does her and to thank Mara for her blessing. He knows he is not exactly the most strapping or attractive man in Skyrim but he knew what he lacked physically he made up for in his nature. People just seemed to like his kind open nature, his ability to calm the hot emotions of others and to bring them together. He believed that anything could be talked about rather than fought which is why he always had an open forum to the public to address their grievances.

True these are not exactly the qualities one would assume of a typical Nord let alone their High King but Torygg wanted to do his part in curbing that stereotype as he found what others thought of Nords insulting.

"If Law-Giver has not acted before now she never will. That woman has no backbone when it comes to standing up to Black-Briars." spat the blond haired Nord not even bothering to his disgust of said woman. In his mind it was no wonder Skyrim was in the straits she saw herself with incompetent nitwits like her and Skald in power. At least that self-serving blowhard Siddgeir has some guile to manage his hold effectively despite being an odious little brat.

"It's not as simple for her as you make it sound Erikur" protested the King's steward, incredulous that the man could be so openly disrespectful of a sitting Jarl though knowing Erikur for as long as he has he should not really be surprised. To this day he still not understand why Torygg's father had made the man a thane - sure he had money and controlled quite the business empire but the man had no class or desire to think beyond himself and that was not the type of person the King's court needed.

"Agreed, given that Maven Black-Briar has her fingers in most things I'm not surprised Lailia is disinclined to act. A large portion of Riften's trade is owned by the Black-Briars' so she is effectively holding the purse strings." commented Torygg not bothering to hide his dislike of the woman for it was no secret that the two never saw eye to eye on most things. To think that Lailia had to deal with that woman on a daily basis one could not help but feel sympathy for her because for all his faults Erikur at least had Skyrim best interests at heart.

"Not to mention her other supposed 'friends'" the steward put in with a frown as he scratched his reddish brown beard.

"Do you really believe that Falk?" asked Elisif with wide eyes, her voice almost a whisper.

"I'm not sure what to believe when it comes to that woman my Queen. She just rubs me the wrong way, my instincts as an old warrior tell me to be wary and if the rumours of the black hand are true I do not blame Jarl Law-Giver for trending carefully." stated Falk Firebeard with a serious expression as even a rumour of the black hand is enough for one to be concerned.

"She is a disgrace to her station! She should be cast out like the cowardly milk-drinker she is!" barked Erikur, crossing his arms in defiance of the shocked expressions of the High Queen and the stewards and amused ones of the High King and that damn creepy court mage whom seldom speaks.

"Maybe, but that is a moot point regardless - besides do you believe yourself better for the job Erikur? See yourself as a Jarl do you? It's nothing as straightforward as being a Thane or heading a business you know" teased the King, enjoying the hot flush creeping up his Thane's face.

"I am aware my King, pardon my outburst" muttered Erikur through clenched teeth keeping his head low waiting for the heat in his face to cool down.

"Anyway back to business, Falk I would like you to issue letter of summons to all the Jarls for a gathering in the near future to discuss the situation of their Holds. I would prefer something after harvest as that would be the best time considering..." Torygg stated before breaking off as one of his guards approached looking frantic.

"I'm sorry to interrupt My King but Jarl Stormclaok is hear and is demanding an audience...

Blurs, there were all blurs; the people, the buildings..the sky - all of it. The sounds around him nothing more than white noise - something one heard but could not understand. His body moved but through no drive of his own with his men walking beside him. All he had to call his own were memories that just kept repeating like some cruel curse for what he had done, when he...when he. his sword...no.. no it had to be done - there was no other way. Dammit there really was no other way.

"You weren't even nursing on her mother's tit when the empire surrendered and betrayed us all by signing that damn treaty."

The anger coursed through his veins as he stood before the child of one of his oldest friends - releasing all the anger, all the pain and all the resentment that had built up for the last 30 years. All that had been kept in check was now coming forth like an unstoppable torrent of righteous truth and now he could not stop it even if he wanted to.

"After all the blood that was spilled retaking that damn Imperial City of theirs. Thousands dead, countless more injured but for all of us who remained - those who lived in the shit and blood for years were ready to continue fighting. Fighting until our boot was on that whore's neck! That treaty pisses on the graves of every man and woman who died fighting those pointed eared bastards.

There, it had been said - publically and not in some quiet room for fear of offending the thalmor. Publically, so the court and through them the people would not forget those who did not come home. Those who fought to defend their empire, their homes and their culture from a ruthless enemy whom wanted to take it all and succeeded in taking some. No, not if he Jarl Ulfic Stormcloak of Windhelm had any say about it! No, he would make their matter. He just needed to be strong, to do the unthinkable - to a boy he has known since he was swaddled.

"You're right, there is nothing you can do. You are weak, too weak to rule Skyrim. You would hand her over to the Thalmor if they or the Empire demanded it."

The pain in the young king's eyes stab at his heart, was it guilt or was it Istlod somehow cursing him from Sovngarde - knowing what he old friend intended even if the boy did not. Now he said the words that would forever change Skyrim and their consequences would be unknown. So in a strong voice he uttered them...

"May you father and the Nine forgive me but I see no other way. I challenge you to defend your throne as High King, Togric, as is our custom and my right as Jarl of Windhelm and son of Skyrim."

Thus the struggle began, starting with a boy with no understating of war or combat facing off against one of the Empire's greatest. It was a farce, a formality - he had no chance, his death already written and Sovngarde awaiting. That was when Ulfic Stormcloak betrayed his oath, his mentor ...himself and shouted...

"Jarl Ulfic, I sorry but you cannot pass" stated a young guard breaking said Jarl from his troubled mind. Looking around Ulfic realised he was at the city gate, how he got here he had no idea but he now that his mind and body were his own once more he knew he had to escape for the traitor's axe was coming

"Stand down Galmar, there has been enough blood spilt this day." Ulfic commanded, seeing his second drawing his axe in readiness for a fight.

"But My Jarl..." the burly man protested, clearly eager to be gone from his place - even if he had to carve through it.

"Now Galmar" the Jarl ordered, his voice hard brooking no argument. Once his second had complied he turned to the young guard watching them with careful eyes - waiting to see if his life would be cut short. He never would have though guard duty in the capital in daylight would be so precarious to ones health but here he was staring possibly facing off against a band of war heroes and veterans whose leader just killed the High King. The odds of his survival in a fight where those of a deer and a troll - none. Still he stood his ground even if it meant his death - better death than dishonour.

"What's your name kinsman?" asked the Jarl with respect in voice, a respect that was rightfully earned in his mind. The young guard could be cut down at any moment and he knows it, one could easily tell from the fear in his eyes and how tight his body was that he had not since much of battle and no more than 20 winters yet here he was doing his duty rather than summit like a milk-drinker.

"Roggvir of Solitude, Jarl Stormcloak" stated the young Nord proudly

"Roggvir of Solitude, as I'm sure you're aware the High King is dead and like any loyal Nord you want justice but the King agreed to a dual of leadership a tradition as old as Skyrim itself and he was honour bound to answer it just as you are bound to respect it." the old warrior explained walking forward till he stood right in front of the now trembling guard. "Would you stand in the way of tradition, cast it aside like so many others have done?" he finished passionately - this was hopefully the first of many who would open their eyes, look around them and stand up for what is right. His first impartial convert.

As the Jarl stared into the young guard's Roggvir of Solitude stared right back, trying to find the truth of the older man's claims. Their was no reason for him to lie for he simply could have cut Roggvir down and be down with it but no the Jarl wanted him to know his reasons and to allow him to pass. It was truly humbling that the man would think so highly of him as to explain his reasons to someone as lowly as him and he could not deny the trill of pride he felt knowing this. The Jarl was also right that if he did indeed invoke the 'Rite of Leadership' then he and all Nords were honour bound to respect the outcome despite their feeling if to the contrary - otherwise what was the fate of any of their traditions if they could just be cast aside. One such tradition was already removed before his lifetime so what more would follow if he stood in the way of another and it was with that though that Roggvir of Solitude of stepped.

"You may pass Jarl Stormcloak" Roggvir stated with a small bow of his head.

"Thank you, and may Talos watch over you Roggvir of Solitude" Jarl Ulfic replied softly - looking at the man with a proud but troubled look.

As the gate was pulled open and his men marched through Ulfic stopped and turn once more to the young gate guard watching them with a troubled look of his own.

"Come with us son" the old warrior asked hoping he would accept but knowing he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry Jarl Stormcloak but my place is here - I swore an oath and for better of worse I will do my duty" the young man proclaimed strongly...proudly.

So with a resigned but proud affection for the young man Jarl Ulfic Stormcloak walked through the gate and walked down the slope road to his horse.

"You know they will kill him don't you" came the gruff voice to his right as he settled on his horse turning her to the road.

"I know they will" came the quiet voice that Galmar almost missed it.

Now on the road away from Solitude the group was quiet which only served to rope Ulfic back into his curse but he did not fight it - it was his penance.

"Ul.. Ulfic..please...please...ple.."

"I'm sorry. I... so...so sorry"

"Guards! Guards, arrest that bastard! What are you waiting for!

"Ulfic! Ulfic, we need to leave now! Dammit Ulfic!

"Torygg!"

"Ul..."

"Talos take me, Kai retreat I got the Jarl - move!"

"Torygg?"

"Bolgeir! Bolgeir, dammit man why are you standing there?"

"Orders!"

"Torygg plea..."

"Ulfic - move your arse you ugly troll faced bastard"

"You haven't called me that since..."

"Later, move!"

"Torygg...Torygg...Tory.."

"Elisif...Elisif my dear, he's gone...

"It's going to be a long ride back" he resigned with a sigh.

Author's Notes:

All chapters subject to change and improvement if I feel it's necessary.

Notes: None