A/N: I just have to share this with you guys. I asked one of my closest friends, who has been following both of my stories from day one, which guy she was rooting for. "Brynjolf," She said to me, and when I asked why, she responded, "Ulfric already has a bromance with Dead-Bear guy. He doesn't need Gaella like Bryn." Oh, man. I can't stop laughing. 3.

I carry your image always in my head
Folded and yellowed and torn at the edge

All of these moments are lost in time
You're caught in my head like a thorn on a vine
To forever torment me and I wonder why
Do I wish I'd never known you at all...

"The Ocean", The Bravery

"How will we retake the Pale without Fire-Hammer?"

Ulfric turned himself from the window at the question, looking over to the soldier who had asked it. He studied the man before him, keeping his expression carefully neutral. The soldier was a true Nord: tall, muscular, and fearsome. But in this moment...he looked nervous. He remembered, belatedly, that this person was one of his captains.

"In case you've forgotten, captain," Galmar spat from the corner, "Fire-Hammer was not always in the army. We did just fine before her, and we will continue to press on, with or without."

Ulfric said nothing yet, simply staring at the captain- who softly cringed under the weight of his gaze. How he missed Lucinda in that moment- the way she would look him straight in the eye and insult him, consequences be damned.

Ulfric was very aware of the way people usually reacted around him. He wore his dominance, self-confidence, and stoicism as a cloak wrapped tightly around him. Those three things in conjunction were deadly- and useful. At times, he did not even need to speak, nor change his expression, to express his displeasure. That had truly been why he liked her so much, he thought. Until he really pressed her, she would talk to him just like any other man. It was...incredible. Even Galmar would not speak to him with the kind of backhanded honesty that she would. He liked that her behavior was unpredictable that way.

"But sir," The captain insisted- and Ulfric had to admire him for it- "We made much slower progress without her. Even though she didn't talk, her courage and ferocity in battle...it inspired the men, gave them strength. Mage or not, she is fierce. We need her to win. We are so close..."

"What would you have me do?" Ulfric asked, finally irritated enough to speak. He relished in the look in the man's eyes- fear. Fear and respect.

"...We have to look for her, sir."

"So let me get this straight," Galmar growls, moving forward. "You expect our King to take away hundreds of soldiers from the areas that we have newly secured, in order to look for a single mage, who may or may not be alive? And how far? We do not know if she would even be in Skyrim! She could be on the other side of Tamriel by now!"

The captain finally looked down.

Ulfric pitied him then. "My son," He said, walking forward, and putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "Do you not believe that I, of all people, understand?"

The captain looked up and met his eyes...shamed. "..Of...of course, my lord. Forgive me. I shouldn't have..."

Ulfric nodded and moved his hand. "Consider it forgotten. Fire-Hammer is gone, yes. But that only means that we must work all the harder. Freedom is never truly dependent on one person, even if that person is the Dragonborn."

The captain nodded, looking relieved.

Ulfric was glad for it. Even though he liked the fear and respect he commanded from his people, he cared about them, too. And- while he would never admit it- every time he had to slay a fellow Nord on the battlefield, it tore at his heart. "Now go forth, and inspire the men. You have worked hard for our victories, and I only ask of you to endure a bit longer. Soon, we will strike down the Imperial dogs and once again taste our freedom."

The captain saluted him proudly, and was gone.

Immediately, Ulfric turned to look out the window, out over his city; the busy streets, the people. Everyone seemed happy enough, and everything seemed to be in order. Not for the first time, his eyes scanned over the most ragged part of his city, so affectionately called "The Gray Quarter" on the streets. He reminded himself again that he would have to fix that when this war was over.

"Ulfric." Galmar said firmly.

Ulfric turned. "Galmar."

"You were thinking about Fire-Hammer throughout that entire exchange."

Ulfric sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Is it that obvious?" He muttered.

"Only to me. You are able to carry out your job just the same as always, you look the same as always. But I know you."

Ulfric had to smile at that. "That you do."

"Come now. It's not like you loved the girl."

"No," Ulfric agreed, "I didn't. But I could have."

"So why can't you let it go? We have received no ransom note, not from the old steward," He spat the word, "Nor from the Imperials demanding our surrender in exchange for her. That points to her simply being dead."

"You really think that the old man could have killed her?"

"He kidnapped her," Galmar pointed out.

"Did he?" Ulfric asked, and watched as a look of comprehension dawned on Galmar's face.

"Ulfric. You don't think she would have abandoned the cause like.."

"I don't know her, Galmar. I didn't think so, at first. She is honorable. But she is far, far too strong, and too smart, to be kidnapped so easily."

"There are ways," Galmar said- and Ulfric could tell that the possibility that he had raised bothered his old friend. " He was a trusted member of your staff. He could have laced her tea, or whatever it is that woman drank. From there it was simply a matter of taking one of the secret passages out with her."

"And when she awoke?"

Galmar was silent.

"What is the probability that she was kidnapped by an old man, who, even if he could carry her with his feeble bones, stood absolutely no chance against her when she was awake? Fire-Hammer would have burned him alive and..."

Would she have returned to him? The anger in her eyes still haunted him.

"And she would have returned. She was loyal to our cause, Ulfric. Loyal to you."

"Not to me," He said, with not a little bit of sadness. "Maybe at first, but not any longer."

"Ulfric. What exactly happened? You still haven't told me all of the details."

So he hadn't. The memory of it was still painful to him. "I...called upon her to speak with me. Your description of her behavior...it...worried me." Ulfric stole a quick glance behind him to make sure no one was coming. "I care about my people, you know that. And, I cannot lie to you, Galmar, she has always fascinated me. So..."

"Let me get this straight," Galmar said, incredulously, after his friend had finished. "...You put her against the wall without attempting to...?"

Ulfric covered his face with his palm. "...I..Yes. Yes, Galmar."

"This woman truly does affect you," Galmar said in disbelief, shaking his head.

"Out of everything I just told you, that is the part you choose to remember?"

"Ulfric, we are Nords. When we pursue a woman in the way that you just described to me, there is no question where it ends. You know that. This...this is baffling."

"I just wanted to help her, Galmar. I wanted to break down those walls."

"But why, Ulfric? I know you care for your people, but this is a step above and beyond, don't you think? At first I thought...well, if you had wanted her for your bed...but you didn't make such a move."

"...I thought about it," Ulfric admitted finally, "But what I was trying to accomplish was much more important, and it...wouldn't be accomplished if I tainted the moment with desire."

"It wasn't accomplished, period."

Ulfric sighed, again.

"You said her real name was Lucinda."

"Yes."

"...Hmph. I'll get someone on it, to find out who she is. Someone who isn't a soldier, and won't be any loss to us while he's off doing this." Galmar truly didn't care, himself; but his king did, and that's what mattered to him. "I don't know how far he'll get with, 'A young Breton named Lucinda', but we'll see..."

"I feel as though it would be betraying her trust."

"She doesn't trust you anymore, anyway."

Ulfric knew this was true, and his heart sank. "Fine," He relented, "Do it."

"I'd like to make a prediction...after hearing that story of yours." Galmar smirked slightly.

Ulfric looked at his friend, then, and waited.

"She will be with us at Solitude."

His first instinct was- honestly- to scoff. But...then he thought about it. What did he know about her? What was most important to her?

Protecting those who couldn't fight for themselves.

"...You know, my friend," Ulfric said, and his heart soared at the thought, "I believe you're right."

"We'll see, eh?" Galmar grins. "Breton or not, hating you or not- she is a true Stormcloak if I ever saw one. She hates the Empire with a passion I admire. Just like us."

"Indeed." Ulfric rubbed his chin. "Well, my friend. I thank you for indulging me this night, but I have grown tired. I'm going to head to my quarters."

"Talos guide you. See you in the morning."

Ulfric nodded and headed to his chambers, his mind whirling. He already had so much to wrap his mind around with this war, but now he had the worry that an innocent woman had met her death because of him; or worse yet, that he'd truly hurt her as badly as he thought, and with good intentions. Galmar said he would dig into her past, and, despite his subconscious telling him he'd rather hear it from her mouth...

….He had never been one to be patient. When he met resistance, he pushed right back, until the walls fell.

After he'd disrobed and fallen into bed, all he could think that was that he truly hoped Galmar was right: that she had planned this kidnapping, and she was out doing exactly whatever it was she truly wanted to do. It meant he could see her again if he wanted to. And even if he didn't see her...well...it meant she was alive. Maybe even happy.

And on that thought, his lips turned into a smile, and he finally let sleep overtake him.