I leave Swifter in the care of Temba Wide-Arm, the horse happily munching on some hay in the small, fenced-off area of her mill. I think I'll give Swifter to her. She's been meaning to get a horse, so she can bring in more wood than just around Ivarstead. I doubt I'll be using Swifter anytime soon, not after today.

Besides, the path is too steep for a horse's hooves. Slipping and falling, breaking bones…. It's a very real possibility for a horse on this path. And a human, for that matter. Any manner of beings.

Taking a deep breath, I start the climb to High Hrothgar, not terribly eager for these negotiations to start, but also wanting them done with already.

As I climb, I think. What could Tullius have meant? What else would Ulfric want, besides land? Holds, keeps, that's what he wants. What both sides want, so this war is over. The truce is temporary, no doubt- just another way to gain a foothold for when the fighting resumes.

I pull my cloak around me tighter, shivering already, even though I'm still fairly close to Ivarstead, only just out of view of the small village. I suspect it'll be preferable to the negotiations inside, even with a fire blazing. Frosty people make for cold conversations.

But, more seriously, the only thing that could really involve me in the negotiations would be if one of the sides asked me to demolish another city with a dragon. Why do Nords always think I can control dragons? My entire trap and plan to save the world hinges on my ability to perform two Shouts, one of which is a moral dilemma, forcing a dragon to experience mortality, even temporarily, and the other, I don't even know yet! Or know if anyone knows how to summon a dragon itself. I doubt Paarthurnax will assist me this deeply. After all, Alduin is his brother.

Another cold wind blows, stalling my progress as I brace myself against it. No wolves tonight- must be too cold, even for them.

Unfortunately, I'm going somewhere colder.

The door to High Hrothgar creaks open, the giant set of doors ominously groaning as I push on them. They're solid, hard to open usually, but I had some help, courtesy of the wind.

"Ah, Dragonborn. So good of you to come," Arngeir states, a little upset by the treaty negotiations that will inevitably crumble, but overall sincere.

"Arngeir. It's nice to be back here. I'm…. I'm sorry that I had to bring the war here. I…. I thought it might help to have neutral ground, uninvolved in the war in any capacity." I bite my lip, a little nervous myself. I know how dedicated to peace the Greybeards are. They haven't been involved in a war in…. Eras, at the very least.

Arngeir bows his head. "I am glad that you did. It is not often that we get to end a war, nor see a Dragonborn bring peace to the world."

I smile at the old man, his hope a tad infectious. "Thank you for your faith, Arngeir."

"It is my pleasure, Dragonborn." he replies, bowing his head. "It was an honor to teach you, even a little bit. You have grown much since we first found you, it is astounding. But, a word of advice, Dragonborn, if I may…."

I nod my head for him to continue, curious.

"Do not take the Words of Power for Dragonrend into your self. It is a dangerous path to travel, to begin hating the dragons for their very nature, that they cannot help."

"That is…. Good advice, Arngeir. I hope that after this is over, I will be able to apply it," I speak, thinking aloud.

He nods. "We might wish to proceed to the negotiation table soon. I fear that the two sides may start a fight even in these ancient halls."

We start the tragically short journey across the room, and I smirk. "That bad?"

He sighs. "You have your work cut out for you, Dragonborn. I do not know if they can even agree to a temporary truce."

"They had better, or I cannot save this world. Why they can't be grown adults and do this themselves…." I trail off, the conference room looming before us. I can already feel a headache starting to form.

"Let's get this over with."

The delegates stand behind their seats, waiting for Arngeir and myself to enter the room, it seems. All eyes are on me as I walk towards my seat, opposite Arngeir, and the only one without someone hovering behind it in apprehension.

Arngeir clears his throat, and speaks, "If everyone will please take their seats, we can begin the negotiations. I must remind you all, though, that the fate of the world hinges on whether or not you can be civilized long enough to cease your pointless war. If the Dragonborn cannot defeat Alduin, you will all be dead before you can point another arrow at each other. Keeping that thought in mind, let us begin."

I take my own seat, as the delegates from the Imperial side do the same, the Blades sitting, after hesitating for a moment.

My eyes drift along the room, taking it in. I haven't spent as much time at High Hrothgar as I would like…. It's so peaceful, detached, here. The Greybeards welcomed me when I first came, and I do not know the Way of the Voice as much as I could….

"We won't negotiate with a Thalmor spy in our midst," snarls Galmar Stone-Fist, still standing behind his chair.

I startle, remembering what's happening, and hoping that he's not talking about me. Why would he, though…?

"You can't decide who we can bring to the negotiating tables, Galmar," Rikke states, hackles rising.

Elenwen speaks up. "It is my duty, as the head Thalmor delegate in Skyrim, to make sure that any treaty decided here does not violate the White-Gold Concordat. Other than that, there is no reason for me to be here."

"Either she goes, or we do," Ulfric finally speaks, folding his arms in a resolute stance.

"Perhaps the Dragonborn should decide," Arngeir brings up, eyes pleading with me. This cannot end before it begins.

I sigh, as everyone's attention goes to me. "Jarl Elisif, are you familiar with the terms of the White-Gold Concordat?"

She startles, not expecting this question, or to be involved in any point in this, really. "Uh, yes. My husband went over it at length with me when he received word of it."

"So you could monitor for breaches of the Concordat while we negotiate this treaty, then?" I ask, hoping that she was competent enough to do so, and that she had a good memory. If this went south…..

She hesitates, then nods. "I remember it clearly enough."

"Well, then, Elenwen, if you would be so kind…." I indicate the door, and she stands, frowning a bit. It's not every day that you're dismissed from a negotiation table that could mean the end of a war by your…. Own kin.

"Fine. But I expect General Tullius, and yourself, to uphold the Concordat, along with Jarl Elisif." she huffs, then exits.

Delphine, from the other side of the table, mumbles, "Good riddance."

I turn my head to look at her. "On that note, Delphine, if you would be so kind as to follow her."

"What?" she exclaims, a few notes down from an awkward squawk. "Why?"

"Because Esbern has some reason to be here, as a master of Dragon lore, but you have nothing to offer here." I explain, irritation rising.

"I offer the services of the Blades," she starts, but I interrupt.

"Yes, but the Blades consists of two people. Both of you are here, and yet, only one of you has useful information pertaining to the problem at hand. Please join Elenwen and walk out before you force me to throw you out."

She pouts angrily, but gets up anyway, obeying me, for once.

Esbern watches her go without protest, and I'm grateful. I like the paranoid old man, just not the overconfident and suspicious Breton.

"Now that that's settled, Jarl Ulfric, Galmar, would you kindly take your seats?" Arngeir asks of them, and this time, they comply.

"Very well, may we begin? The truce the Dragonborn needs does not have to be temporary, but it may be, if you cannot put your arms up for more than she requires," Arngeir continues, explaining the situation. "But, also, I would appreciate that both sides of this conflict would remember that lives are at stake, not merely territory and ideals."

Galmar growled. "We remember that. Every Nord in the Stormcloak army is a hero to both his nation and his ancestors!"

"And yet you started this slaughter of a war…" Rikke trails off, glaring at Galmar.

"We know the names of every soldier in our ranks. Can you say the same, General?" Ulfric chimes in, staring at the man evenly. A hard earned respect is in that gaze. Grudging, but it's there.

"Go ahead and make your first demand then. I'm sure it'll be as unreasonable as you!" Elisif bursts out, seething. Maybe Elenwen should have stayed….. Can Elisif hold herself together for this? She is seated across from the man who murdered her husband, after all.

"We want Markarth handed over to us. We'll put Thongvar Silver-Blood as Jarl to keep the city running." Ulfric states, the term not up for debate.

"To soak up all the silver there, eh? We'll take Riften and it's hold, then." Tullius counters.

"You are not taking the Stronghold that is the Rift from Stormcloak hands!" Galmar bangs his fist on the table, growling out his sentence.

"Then you won't be taking the Reach!" Rikke spits out. Her fiery blood is always close to boiling….

"Perhaps the Dragonborn should decide…." Arngeir winces at the loud noises, and I'm sure the other Greybeards don't appreciate them either. High Hrothgar is supposed to be quiet, peaceful, made for meditation.

"If the Jarl Ulfric is set on having Markarth and the Reach, then Tullius and the Imperials must have the Rift, and it's capital." I decide, feeling an admiring look from Tullius, and a scowl from Galmar, and….. Ulfric's eyes?

My own gaze catches his, and he looks away, choosing to glare at Tullius once more.

"Even if we're given the Reach, we won't give up the Rift." Ulfric says, his lip curling as he looks at Tullius.

"This is an outrage!" Elisif cries out, her anger rising fast. "General, you cannot possibly think about agreeing to this!"

"Jarl Elisif, I'll handle this." Tullius growls out, and the petite Jarl shuts down a little bit, though it's not difficult to tell that she's fuming.

"She's right, though. We won't give you something for nothing." Rikke states, looking at Ulfric.

"We'll be giving you a truce, and, eventually, freedom from Thalmor and Imperial control alike," the Jarl of Windhelm states, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"How dare you!" Elisif bursts out, nearing the end of her patience already. Not even twenty minutes in. "First you murder my husband, and then you decide that you can be crowned High King without even a Moot to convene it? Your arrogance knows no bounds!"

Galmar growls again, looking at the Jarl and opens his mouth to say something, before Esbern stands, shouting for attention.

"Is this all this is? A territory swap? People, please! You must agree to a truce! Do you not understand? Do you not see? How can you not know the danger we are in, the danger we are all in, Imperial, Thalmor, Stormcloak, Elves, Beasts, Humans, alike? The souls of the dead, the ones that you are adding to in astronomical amounts every time your armies cross paths, they are feeding Alduin and his power! You are helping him to heal every time he clashes with the Dragonborn, and you are so caught up in your own petty fight over territory that you cannot agree upon even a simple truce to keep your world alive?"

The room falls quiet, and I thank the Gods above that Esbern is still here.

"... Very well. The Rift for the Reach." Ulfric concedes, and Tullius nods.

"Agreed."

"Is that all?" Arngeir asks, in the hope that it is, truly, over.

"No, not yet. We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten." Rikke starts, fired up. She knew some of the people there… Losing a friend or two is always difficult, but when the responsible party won't own up? Even tougher.

"We did no such thing!" Galmar defends, banging his fist on the table yet again.

"You slaughtered the very people you claim to protect, the ones you claim to fight for!" Rikke shouts, and Ulfric flinches a tiny bit.

"Dragonborn, should there be a compensatory pay given to the Imperials for the massacre at Karthwasten?" Arngeir asks, and I consider it.

"Of course. A massacre and a waste of lives, particularly innocents, must be paid for. Since you will not offer your own lives, then gold will do, I suppose." I say, trying to be somewhat diplomatic.

"There is no proof that there was a massacre caused by us! For all we know, it was you Imperial dogs!" Galmar snarls, ignoring my statement.

"Shift the blame onto us, of course you do! Like the cowards you are!" Elisif yells at them.

I toss my arms up in the air lightly. "Why am I here if no one will listen to what I say?" I mutter to myself, exasperated.

"This treaty is unacceptable! If you Stormcloaks would pull your heads out of the snow, you'd see that a united Empire is better for everyone!" Rikke shouts, standing now. Her outrage is practically palatable.

"Like we'd bow to those stuck up elves! You're nothing but their slaves, waiting on your masters day and night!" Galmar yells, standing up and looking like he's almost ready to draw his weapon.

"We won't stay here and be insulted!" Elisif declares, standing with Rikke, both of them looking murderous at Galmar and his Jarl.

"Elisif, Rikke, stand down." Tullius growls out, but the duo don't listen to him, instead shouting at Galmar, who roars back, equally loud.

I sigh, fed up with this. I stand, and Shout, "Tiid!"

Everyone startles. Tullius, because he never thought I'd use a Shout on him, Arngeir and Galmar, because he's never heard that Rotmulaag before, Elisif and Rikke, because they've never heard a Thu'um before, likely, and Ulfric, who seems to doubt that I'm Dragonborn.

The world resumes it's normal time flow.

"The next person who interrupts anyone is going to die, by my hands," I state, still standing, my hands steady on the table. "We will all sit down, and calmly discuss the terms of the treaty, because if we do not, the world will end, and then this entire painful experience will not matter in the slightest. Now, does anyone have anything to say about the treaty as it stands currently?"

Ulfric clears his throat. "I cannot accept this treaty."

Tullius shakes his head, Elisif seething beside him. "Nor I."

He, at least, has the decency to look bashful about it.

"Then does anyone have a possible solution?" Arngeir asks, as exasperated as I am.

The room is silent, as the sides think about it.

"I have a plan," Ulfric states.

"Then what, in Kynareth's name, is it?" Esbern asks, united with Arngeir and myself in exhaustion of this meeting.

"The Stormcloak rebel cause will permanently lay down their arms. In exchange, I will become High King of Skyrim, and the terms of the White-Gold Concordat will be renegotiated." Ulfric casually says, as his eyes flicker around the table of faces.

Elisif, Tullius, and Rikke all sputter, Tullius turning red in the face, as Rikke stands and starts yelling obscenities at him, while Elisif glares murderously at her fellow Jarl, so astounded she cannot summon the words to express her rage accurately.

Arngeir sighs, then speaks, "Ulfric, you know that those terms are impossible to meet."

Esbern follows this by asking, in a quiet tone, "Is everyone in charge of something always this unreasonable?"

Galmar growls out a warning to the loremaster, then turns to his Jarl. Even he knows it's a bit…. Much.

"What do you think of his proposal, Dragonborn?" Arngeir asks, hoping that they'll remember why they're all here, with me. To discuss halting the war to save the world.

"It is unreasonable. The Thalmor would never agree to renegotiate the treaty, and it's doubtful that they would accept you as High King of Skyrim," I say, and for once, the room quiets and listens. Well, it's not the first time, but it feels like it.

Ulfric nods, looking thoughtful. Uncommon for a Nord… and for Ulfric, who seems to think with his heart and not his brain.

I don't trust it.

"I have one more thought….." he starts, and a small smirk plays on his features for a moment before disappearing again.

Now I really don't trust him.

"If the Dragonborn were to approve, then the Stormcloak cause would still lay down their arms, permanently, and accept Imperial rule. The Thalmor presence in Skyrim would be diminished to only the Embassy, and the seat of the High King." Ulfric examines his nails casually, waiting for something.

But what?

"And would you become the High King, then?" Jarl Elisif asks, while Rikke bites the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting. Tullius looks… introspective, but, suspicious.

"No. That is still for the Moot to decide."

"Then what is your price for this generous proposal?" Esbern asks, curiosity lighting his eyes.

"The Dragonborn." Ulfric answers, looking at me.

A few moments of silence pass, and then my brain processes what was just said.

"What?" I ask Ulfric, positive I misheard everything he just said.

"I would wed you, and you would stand by my side, as the Lady of Windhelm." he answers promptly, a bit of mirth hidden in his eyes.

He's won.

Because time is running out, and an entire end to this war… countless lives saved….. The empire united once more….. A diminished Thalmor presence… and Alduin killed. Hopefully.

All for one very simple price.

Me.

I zone back in, and find Tullius, Rikke, and Elisif, all yelling at Ulfric and Galmar at the top of their lungs. Esbern sits back, shrugging, knowing it's the best deal we could possibly get. But Arngeir…..

He looks positively murderous. Which is saying a lot about a man who has devoted his entire life to the Way of the Voice, Shouting only in Kynareth's glory.

I sigh, closing my eyes, and think about it once more. One price for peace, freedom, and a truce. All I wanted and much more.

But is it worth it?

I'm still considering it, the room is still chaotic, but Arngeir's voice still processes in my head clearly.

"Dragonborn, before you tell us your decision, might I speak with you?" Arngeir asks, and when I open my eyes, he's next to me.

I nod, standing, and letting him lead me to the outer rim of the monastery, windows facing the blizzard outside, though it's dying down easily enough. A meditation mat is on the floor, in front of us, but I sit on the window ledge, feeling the cold edge invigorate me and jolt me awake a little.

"Dragonborn, I…. I am sorry, but…."

"You think I should accept the proposal," I state, and Arngeir nods, hesitating just a tad.

I sigh. "And why wouldn't I? It means an end to the war, an illustrious position after all this, the truce I originally wanted….. But I…. I give everyone else their freedom, their lives back, and what do I get? I get chains. Chains that I cannot break without some sort of death happening. Perhaps…. Perhaps you were right, Arngeir. Perhaps the World-Eater should be allowed to devour this world. Perhaps the next one will be better."

"And perhaps it will be the same. We all make choices, Dragonborn. Ulfric chose to dishonor the Way of the Voice when he killed High King Torygg with it. He chose to dishonor the Empire he fought for by starting a rebellion that is, and was, doomed to failure. He chose to dishonor himself when he asked for you as his price. You will not be happy, I fear, with that man. But, if you truly wish to stop Alduin… you are the only one who can. And this is the price," Arngeir says, sorrow tinging his voice. "But, should you ever choose to return to High Hrothgar, our doors shall never be closed to you."

I smiled sadly at him. "Thank you, Arngeir. That… that helps a little."

He smiles, almost chuckling, although that is horribly dangerous.

"I've made up my mind."

We return to the conference room, finding almost the same state of affairs as when we left, although it looks like Rikke might try and fist fight Galmar at the first opportunity, Elisif is screaming herself hoarse, and Tullius is glaring at Ulfric, who is merely lounging in his chair, smug as a duck. Esbern seems to be trying to control the situation, but he can't quite manage it.

Arngeir clears his throat, and says, simply, "Enough."

The room quiets immediately, the calming aura he radiates forcing everyone to relax.

"The Dragonborn has come to a decision."

Ulfric smiles, not sitting up for even a moment. He knows. He knows he made an offer that no one could refuse, not now.

I walk to my seat slowly, enjoying my last few moments of pure freedom before I formally present myself for the golden shackles to capture my wrists and bind me for all eternity to this man.

I don't take the seat, though, instead standing behind it and clasping it in my hands, as if I'm afraid that if I do not, my fury will make me lash out at the smug man sitting down, predatory eyes leering at me.

My eyes close for a moment, and I sigh, then open my mouth, eyes staring straight ahead, over Arngeir's head. I can't bear to look at anyone right now.

"Those terms are…. Acceptable." I spit out the word, wondering if I can have Ulfric murdered before this truly comes to pass.

Elisif and Rikke give gasps of shock, genuinely thinking that I wouldn't- couldn't- bear to be married to that animal, and Galmar thumps Ulfric on the back, chuckling and grinning. The man himself is smirking smugly at me, standing.

"Since we have come to an agreement, the council is….." Arngeir's voice falters, his emotions clouding his control for the moment. "The council is adjourned."

Ulfric strolls up to me, eying me up and down. "I'll make all the arrangements. Do not worry about it." he moves off, Galmar following.

"Oh, and wear something nice for the wedding, won't you?" he asks, shouting it without even turning around as he exits the room.

Esbern stands, pulling out a book and showing a passage to me. "If you call this in Dragonsreach, he will likely come, and then you can trap him, find out where Alduin's base is, and kill the World-Eater."

I nod my head. Simple. Simple directions. I can do that.

Esbern nods once more, then leaves the room, walking out of the monastery swiftly.

Rikke and Elisif pat me on the back, unsure of what else to do, and move to the foyer. Arngeir already said his piece, and walks out, back to his meditations.

Tullius and I are the only ones in the room left.

"That…. It's a noble thing you did, Korina. I…. I'm sorry." he says, getting up out of his seat and walking towards me. "We can break the truce after this… Alduin is taken care of. Wipe Ulfric off the face of Nirn."

"Thank you, Tullius."

"Legate, your sacrifice has more than earned my respect. Call me Reinald." He smiles sadly at me, and fiddles with something in his hand. "I was going to give this to you when this was over, if you exceeded your duty, but…. You have done so much more than that. I know it's no way to compensate you for your loss of freedom, but…."

He swung it around, brushing off a flap of leather that was concealing it. A handle.

Hesitantly, I reach out, gripping it firmly, and pull it from the wrapping. It's still in it's scabbard, but I remove it and lay that on the table as I examine the blade.

"It's beautiful…" I breathe, looking at it in wonder. The Elven blade sings through the air as I give it a few experimental strokes.

Tullius- Reinald chuckles at my wonder. "I hope it suits you. It's reinforced with steel, a one of a kind blade."

"So it's like me? Half Elven, half human?" I smile at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, at ease with me.

"I suppose it is. And I'll be bringing this diplomatic issue to the Emperor personally. I'll let him know that you deserve to be promoted, at the very least." his smile dies quickly, thinking back to reality.

Mine does, too. "Will I still be allowed to be in the Legion, even if I'm to be married to the leader of the rebellion? Nothing was signed. No one but us here knows about this."

"Ulfric wants you for your power and your title, Korina. I don't think he'll let you slip through his fingers when he's so close to legitimizing a claim on High King."

I sheathe the sword, buckling the belt around my waist so it hangs, easy to reach.

"If he thinks he can use me, he'll have another thing coming." I mutter darkly, and I exit the room, pulling the hood of my cloak up. I have a dragon to catch.

(A/N: Tullius has no official first name, this is made up using a random name generator. Please review, input=better and more frequent updates)