Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Trigger warning for mentions of death, violence and fantastic racism.

…

Machinations

It was something of a relief that Lia had left Whiterun for a few days with Lydia and two mercenaries in tow. Whatever she could scavenge from Helgen's ruins would extend his coffers – and in this time of blood and fire, every septim needed to be stretched as tightly as it could. Balgruuf lounged on his throne as Avenicci and Hrongar argued over where the gold he'd assigned to the Hold's defence should be spent on warriors or fortifications, wondering what the gods would deliver next – dragons, Legionnaires or Stormcloaks.

A Jarl never shirked on his promises; Balgruuf knew that from his father's teachings. But promises had been made to both sides before the war began and now he was being forced to choose between prosperity and honour. On one side, the wealth to sustain Whiterun… on the other, the glory of Talos.

Jarls, friend and foe alike, called him gold-hungry. In easier times, Balgruuf would simply laugh it off and point out the richness of his fields and the fat his people and animals wore well. Even before Alduin's return, the fat had begun to wear thin as trade thinned and then halted. He'd concealed the depth of the trouble to his children – why burden them as he had been burdened – yet already rumour was trickling out of Dragonsreach. Soon, the emptiness of his coffers would become known and the warring sides aware he was ripe for attack.

What would have happened, he wondered, if Balgruuf the Lesser had supported Arius' treason? With the Count of Bruma in his hand, Dengeir of Falkreath an ally despite the disastrous match between his daughter and therefore Pale Pass controlled at both ends, the grandson of the Hero of Kvatch could have throttled the land trade to Whiterun and the Reach, thereby holding Hrolfdir and Balgruuf the Lesser hostage. He could have even thrown his support behind the Forsworn, gotten Madanach on his side and promised Imperial recognition if the witch-folk fought for him. It would have taken a stronger man than Balgruuf's father to not fold after such tactics – and through kin-ties, the Ravencrones of Morthal and High King Istlod himself would have been drawn into the plan. Ulfric's father Bjorn, the Bear of Windhelm, would have agreed to follow the sacred blood of Talos and brought Skald the Elder and Korir's sire Ingmar into the fold. Riften, run by the opportunistic Law-Givers, would have joined up readily enough.

The problem was that Arius Aurelius was a mystic and mage, not a politician, Balgruuf mused as he lounged on his throne. If he had one competent political advisor…

The Jarl of Whiterun sighed heavily. He was a politician, raised to be a Steward, and so the ebb and flow of trade was as natural to him as breathing. To him, reading people was as easy as scanning a list of items, and the faces of Lia and Irkand revealed much.

He wagered that Irkand didn't know the half of what his niece had done to survive. The Companion, while intelligent, was not particularly complex: born and bred to obey, above all things, he was a merciless killer whose honour was thinner than he thought. Balgruuf suspected his loyalty to his blood-kin was magically enforced, therefore making him rather obsessive about it – though the pack-bonds between him and the other werewolves of Jorrvaskr would have weakened the geas. It was by grace of the gods he joined the Companions instead of the Dark Brotherhood.

Lia, too, was magically geased – to no doubt survive and use the Akaviri lore her grandfather had drummed into her. Beneath the pleasantly plump exterior and the striking features lay the ruthless instinct for survival, warped by the full knowledge of her grandfather's failure and the burden laid upon her. The Jarl would truly hate to be in the way of her and her goal because Lia had very little honour to subvert, if any. For the defeat of Alduin, the Bruma Nord would even betray her uncle.

That the blood of Talos has sunk so low, the Jarl thought grimly. I pray that she isn't Dragonborn…

The Aurelii were tools, either for his hand or that of the Dragonborn – and Balgruuf had no choice but to wield them.

His hand, callused by regular practice with a sword, slowly clenched into a fist. It was a time of chaos – but also opportunity. And when it came to protecting his Hold, Balgruuf had as little honour as Lia and as much ruthlessness.

…

Sigdrifa Stormsword looked down at the map of Skyrim and allowed herself a savage curse. Balgruuf was planted like a fat bejewelled spider in the middle of Whiterun and effectively controlling the flow of troops and resources in the kingdom. "What's the bet that gold-hungry nithing will lose his 'neutrality' when one side begins to win?" she asked of the air – or perhaps Talos.

"I will grant the gold-hungry but not the nithing. Not yet," Ulfric reprimanded the Shieldmaiden mildly. "Rumour has it he's looking for information on the dragons."

"Of course he is," Galmar pointed out sardonically. "If he presents himself as concerned more about the threat of Alduin than the civil war, he looks good to the Dragonborn, which will entangle the World-Eater's Bane in his schemes."

"He's already got my daughter," Sigdrifa said. "Where else could she go for sanctuary without having to choose a side?"

The condemnatory tone was back in her voice. Lia was descended from heroes on both sides of her ancestry – how could she be such… such… a milkdrinker?

"Of course," Ulfric confirmed. "I believe Lia's safety was the price of Irkand acting as his errand boy."

The Stormsword punched the map to make herself feel better, the sting of bruised knuckles easing the turmoil of her heart. A mother shouldn't despise her daughter, but Sigdrifa had been so startled to discover Lia alive in the bowels of Helgen Keep, working for the Legion, that she took out the old bitterness towards the Aurelii on her. "Arius was a lousy traitor but a competent mage. She's probably under so many geasa that she can't think straight."

"Or a harsh life has brought out the nithing that lurks in us all," Ulfric said with more sympathy than the Stormsword expected.

Only they three knew of the treason that Ulfric performed to stop the pain of torture. Sigdrifa was surprised to find him indirectly mentioning it, in fact. The Tongue had more than made up for his past lack of honour.

"My daughter is an archive of Akaviri knowledge – or at least what's relevant to the Dragonborn," the Shieldmaiden observed grimly. "She knew Cloud Ruler inside and out, including where Arius held the most important records."

Ulfric's eyes lit up and even Galmar looked intrigued. The Blades kept records of the times of Talos and before, times when kings took their thrones through strength and will, not the Imperial-backed dregs of an ancient bloodline. Some of those relevant records included the genealogies of all known Dragonborn from Reman Cyrodiil to Talos Himself. Some of the records covered the ancestry of kings lost to the Nords by the will of the Imperial machine.

The Stormsword smiled inwardly. It was a mother's duty to protect her daughter and show her the way to honour. Until now, Sigdrifa had been remiss in doing so – no wonder Lia had lost her way. And where Lia went, Irkand would follow, desperately clutching to the remnants of an old life better forgotten. Though, to be fair, the girl had been the only one unafraid of the Executioner in Cloud Ruler.

Once Lia had been brave and cheerful. Arius had destroyed that in her daughter. If he wasn't dead and gone, the Stormsword would trap his soul and use it to enchant a warmed pisspot for his failure in keeping the extravagant promises he'd made the Jarl of Falkreath. Dengeir deserved avenging too while he still had some wits to appreciate it.

"Would she cooperate?" Galmar asked, ever blunt and pragmatic. "That knowledge would be useful, but…"

"I'll send my sincere apologies and word of some Dragonish words at Shearpoint," Sigdrifa immediately answered. "I'm hoping that when we talk politely, she'll see the truth of our cause. You know we need outside viewpoints, Ulfric."

"I offered to recruit Delphine but you were… reluctant," Ulfric drawled.

Sigdrifa scowled at him as Galmar snickered. Some wounds were too sore, even after three decades.

"You know that if she is… reluctant, steps will need to be taken," Galmar said after he'd stopped chuckling. "The Imperials can't get that sort of knowledge – or worse yet, the Thalmor."

"Ralof and a longbow will be my insurance," Sigdrifa said grimly.

It wasn't kinslaughter if someone else did the deed.

…

Legate Rikke stared at the General, who'd just handed her the orders from the Emperor. "Is he insane?" she asked of the stocky Colovian.

"It's treason to imply that the Emperor is of less than sound mind," Tullius countered. "I fail to see what the problem with the orders is, Legate."

"General, this is nothing short of pissing on everything the Nords hold sacred." Rikke took a deep breath to keep the tight anger from her voice. "The carnificina was brutal enough, though we Nords understand pragmatism better than you think. But to send the Legion up to High Hrothgar? That would unite most of Skyrim behind Ulfric."

Tullius looked unconvinced. "The Voice was banned for a reason. And they can't be too pacifistic if Ulfric used his to kill Torygg."

"Most of the Jarls – even on Ulfric's side – consider that blasphemy," Rikke retorted. She read more of the orders and didn't bother to hide her curse. "Attacking the Companions of Jorrvaskr?"

"Only if they refuse to join the Fighters' Guild," Tullius answered.

"General, the Companions are a warrior tradition that is older than the Empire itself. They are politically neutral and Harbinger Kodlak issued a statement that Ulfric's use of the Voice violated the spirit of the trial by combat laws, if not the letter. Even more so than the Greybeards are the heirs of Ysgramor revered by the Nords of Skyrim."

"I know you're sentimental about some of your barbaric traditions, Legate, but Skyrim needs to join the rest of Tamriel in the modern world." Tullius heaved a weary sigh and Rikke realised that appealing to his honour wouldn't work. Not when he had a duty to end the civil war by any means necessary.

Make the argument by pointing out our lack of resources. "Do you remember how devastating Ulfric was at Markarth? There are four Greybeards, each of them knowing three to five Shouts, who make him look like a screaming baby," she informed the General. "We don't have the battlemages, not with dragons flying about."

"I thought they were sworn to use no violence," Tullius said with a frown.

"They have the right to self-defence."

"Fucking Nords," Tullius muttered. "What about the Companions then?"

Rikke smiled thinly. "Every Companion must stand against six foes to enter the Circle. Even their whelps – trainees – are battle-hardened veterans."

"A couple battlemages to set their mead-hall on fire-"

"Would have Balgruuf irate and joining Ulfric out of spite." Rikke folded her arms and looked down at the shorter man. "Did I mention that beside Skjor the Scarred, former Legate of the 3rd Whiterun, Aela the Huntress, and the Hero Twins, the Circle contains Irkand Aurelius?"

Tullius raised an eyebrow. "He's about my age."

"And not slowing down." Rikke smiled grimly. "I have it on good authority that the Companions are the only thing stopping the Executioner of the Blades from joining the Dark Brotherhood and killing every Thalmor he comes across."

Tullius now had a doubtful expression and Rikke moved in for the kill. "May I speak frankly, General?"

"Since when have you done otherwise?"

"I don't think the Emperor issued these orders. Or if he did, then someone else was dictating them." Rikke's gaze was hard. "These orders, General, would inflame the general populace of Skyrim in a way that the White-Gold Concordat didn't. The Civil War would only get worse… and our own soldiers would desert the Legion. We've lost our god, General – taking what's left would utterly destroy the Imperial presence in Skyrim."

The Colovian's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying…?"

"There's only one faction, General, which wins by the continued chaos in Skyrim."

Tullius was a brilliant general and the finest tactician of his generation. But he was also stolid, lacked the ability to read people properly and incapable of deception in social situations.

Rikke was a Shieldmaiden of Talos and they learned to fight with all kinds of weapons, including words… and facts. This was the truth, all of it, presented in a manner that could only alarm her commander.

"I'll put it in my files," Tullius muttered. "Rikke?"

"Yes, General?"

"Keep your suppositions to yourself. We can't fight on two fronts."

The Legate nodded as the Colovian stalked out of the war room with a thoughtful expression, smiling slightly at his back.

She would keep her word. But the Legionnaires eavesdropping had no such orders.