A/N: Hello, all. I've been working really hard on this story since it was neglected for so long, and I actually have a lot written now, but in an attempt to not get stuck again this semester, I won't be posting as frequently as I did at the start of this, or as often as I did for Ice and Fire. As of now, I have through chapter 16 finished, and I will be posting every other Monday, or thereabouts, so that what I already have written can carry me through to the end of the semester. So yeah, that's all the scheduling news. As for notes...I can't remember if I've mentioned Elisif before or not, so in case I haven't, and you haven't played Skyrim, just know that she is the widow of the former High King and is the one who the Legion is backing for the throne. Pretty sure that's all that really matters for this one, so go ahead and jaunt down to the real stuff. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin, except for Lanius. Specifically, a good chunk of Rikke and Lannister's dialogue in this chapter is taken straight from the game, so that's even more Bethesda's than the rest.

Rating: T for some violence and language.

"Tell me again why I'm wasting men chasing after a fairy tale."

The sound of General Lannister's voice made Gendry stop his path to the Castle Dour training yard and he slowed his gait to hear the conversation that had caught his interest.

"If Ulfric gets his hands on that crown, it won't be a fairy tale, ser," Legate Rikke argued, her voice sharp and borderline insubordinate. "It will be a problem."

Tywin Lannister sighed heavily and Gendry could practically see the bored scowl across his face. "Don't you Nords put any stock in your traditions? I thought the Moot chose the new ruler. We aren't the only ones supporting Elisif. When the Moot meets, they'll do the sensible thing."

"Not everybody's agreed to the Moot," Rikke replied. "You've been here long enough to know that Nords aren't always sensible. We follow our hearts."

The general sighed again, even heavier than before. "So what are you saying? Ulfric gets this crown and then suddenly he's the High King?"

Gendry stopped beside the door and peeked around the frame just in time to see Rikke shaking her head in obvious exasperation. "No, of course it's not as simple as that. But if he were to get it…the Jagged Crown would be a potent symbol for his cause to rally around."

Tywin narrowed his eyes at his top commander. "So if we found it first, and gave it to Elisif?"

Rikke nodded, her hands on her hips. "In the absence of the Moot, it would help to legitimize her claim."

Nodding curtly, the Imperial general finally conceded. "Very well. I'll entrust you with what resources we can spare. But, I'm warning you, if this turns out to be a waste of time and men..."

The Legate didn't seem to appreciate the threat, but assured him regardless. "It won't be a waste."

Tywin eyed her for a moment before turning away and returning to the map before him. "Make sure you send the new Auxiliary and his unit. He's still green enough not to be offended if you just send him back when you get there and find nothing but old bones and cobwebs."

Rikke nodded and headed for the door, but hesitated a moment just before exiting and added one final thought. "Robb Stark is no fool, ser. He's found the crown. But we'll get to it first."

"Lanius."

The injured soldier opened his eyes and looked up blearily, his expression shifting into a half-hearted sneer when he saw who it was standing beside his bed. "What do you want, Waters? Come here to mock me?"

Gendry shook his head. Though the captain had been nothing but cruel to his men, no one deserved what had happened to him. Not even the scholars at the College could have made him walk again.

"I came for advice."

Lanius snorted and closed his eyes again. "Advice from a cripple? That does sound foolish enough to be something that you would do. Very well then. Go on."

Gendry clenched his jaw, but ignored the insult. "As you know, I've been promoted to Auxiliary in light of your injuries and given command of our regiment."

His former captain looked up at him with a venomous glare. "Yes, I do recall hearing that. I think the general's exact words were 'since your captain is now less than worthless on the field of battle'..."

Nodding, Gendry pushed aside his feelings of pity. Lanius didn't deserve them. "That's exactly why I'm here. You may not be able to fight again, but you were our captain for a reason."

Lanius sighed and shifted slightly, grimacing in pain as he did. "Just get to your gods damned point, Waters. It's not like I have my whole life to lie here and listen to your yammering." He laughed bitterly, until it turned to a rasping cough that stained his lips with blood. Gendry watched expressionlessly as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

When he seemed to have settled again, Gendry continued. "I know how to fight, and I can hold my own in most battles, but I know nothing of leading troops. You do."

Sighing, Lanius nodded in grudging agreement. "And so you're here to learn about how to command, is that it?"

Gendry nodded and then spoke again when he offered no further conversation. "Will you do it?"

A few long moments of silence passed and Gendry began to wonder if Lanius had slipped into unconsciousness when he finally continued. "Aye. I'll help you. But not without a price."

"What are you asking for?"

Lanius turned his head to meet the gaze of the young Imperial. "No matter what you want to do, no matter what anyone else might tell you, no matter if you get a direct order not to...if I ask you to, kill me. I don't want to live like this for the rest of my life."

Gendry looked down at the man before him, at the dark red smear across his pale skin, at the bloody bandages that concealed the stumps where his legs had once been, and finally, he nodded.

Gendry was still sitting at Lanius' side in the infirmary when the familiar click of steel boots echoed in the hall and Legate Rikke appeared a moment later, a grim expression on her face.

"Waters, come with me."

He cast a final glance at the unconscious Imperial beside him before standing and following the Legate from the room. It wasn't until they reached the castle courtyard that she turned back to him and spoke.

"I suppose you haven't been properly welcomed to the ranks of the Legion, Auxiliary." She extended a hand. "So, welcome. I'm afraid you won't have much time to adjust to your new rank. We have an assignment for your regiment." Gendry withheld the sigh that rose in his chest and merely nodded in acceptance, allowing her to finish her debriefing.

"Ulfric's right-hand man, Robb Stark, has located what he believes is the final resting place of the Jagged Crown. We're going to make sure he doesn't get his hands on it. The rest of my regiment is already assembling outside the ruin of Korvanjund. I'll meet you there as soon as I finish up here. Its location is marked on the map in the war room."

Gendry nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Pardon me, ser, but...the Jagged Crown?"

Rikke looked annoyed and muttered something about the Imperials' lack of concern for Nordic culture before nodding curtly. "Yes. It's a legendary crown, dating back to the Nord King Harald's time, or possibly before. The stories differ on that detail. Regardless of its beginning, it is a powerful relic of a golden age; a time that has long since passed.

"Legend has it that the crown is made from the bones and teeth of ancient dragons, and is said to increase the power of the wearer. Whatever the truth may or may not be, if Ulfric gets his hands on it, it would be a powerful symbol around which to rally support for his cause."

"If it's legend, ser," Gendry replied somewhat skeptically, "how do we know where it is?"

"Well..." She hesitated for a moment before opting for honesty. "To be frank, we don't. Its location is said to have been lost with King Borgas, when the Great Hunt killed him while he was off on his Alessian campaigns. Supposedly, his body was brought back to Skyrim and secretly buried with the crown. Knowledge of that location was said to be lost in the Wars of Succession that followed. But my agents report that Robb is pretty damned convinced Korvanjund is the tomb of King Borgas.

"I knew Robb's father; we fought together in the Great War. If Robb is as much like his father as I've heard, then he's not a man taken to fancy. If he believes the crown is there...he's likely found it."

Gendry accepted her word on the matter and Rikke seemed relieved that he had ended his line of questioning, straightening up and clicking the heels of her boots together. "Those are your orders, Auxiliary. Leave on the morrow and rendezvous with the rest of the men outside Korvanjund. I'll meet you there."

"Listen up, men." Gendry paced slowly back and forth before the line of soldiers that stood at attention before him. The battle at Helgen had reduced his regiment to a meager dozen, but the men that remained were skilled in combat—or very lucky.

"We've been given orders from Legate Rikke herself, and those straight from General Lannister. We're to march on Korvanjund, a Nordic tomb to the northeast of Whiterun. There lies an artifact of great power and importance, the Jagged Crown. We are to keep the crown from Stormcloak hands and return it here to the general. Are there any questions?"

Hot Pie hesitantly raised a hand and Gendry nodded in his direction. "Yes, soldier?"

"Are...we to be the only regiment...ser?"

Gendry shook his head and clasped his hands at the small of his back. "No. Legate Rikke and her regiment will be meeting us there. Hopefully, they will have already secured the ruin before our arrival and we will merely be acting as reinforcements to keep the crown safe on its journey back to Solitude."

Another soldier cleared his throat and Gendry raised his eyebrows, prompting him to speak.

"What if the Stormcloaks come before we get to the crown?" His thick Southern Cyrodiilian accent made the words themselves seem comical, but a chill ran through him at the question.

What if the Young Wolf is there? A vision of bloodied fangs and tearing flesh flashed behind his eyes and he fought to keep his composure as his blood ran cold.

"Then we'll protect it with our lives," he replied, his words suggesting a confidence that he had none of.

As they took to the road, the question remained bouncing around in his skull and as the spires of Korvanjund rose to the horizon, it wasn't the only voice he heard.

"I won't stop until you're all dead. Every last one of you."

Legate Rikke was standing behind a copse of trees when the small regiment arrived. At her side stood Hadvar, the Imperial commander who had been in charge of the execution listings in Helgen.

"What's the situation?" Rikke asked, her hand ready at her gilded scabbard.

Hadvar frowned as he replied. "Stormcloaks were already camped out around the entrance when we got here. They don't know we're here yet, though."

Rikke sighed. "Well, that's something at least. Prepare to move out while we still have the element of surprise." She turned at Gendry's arrival and nodded in acknowledgement. "Be ready with your men, Auxiliary. If they're as determined to take the crown as we are, then we may need that silver sword of yours."

Ignoring the look of panic that flashed momentarily across his features, or perhaps not noticing it, she turned to the gathered troops and pulled her sword from its scabbard. "Listen up, Legionnaires. Those Stormcloaks are here for the same reason we are. Ulfric the Pretender wants that crown, but we're not going to let him have it. I realize some of you may know men on the other side, but remember this: they are the enemy now and will not hesitate to end your lives.

"General Lannister is counting on us to bring back the Jagged Crown, and that's exactly what we're going to do. Let's show these rebels what real soldiers look like."

At her signal, the men drew their swords and emerged from their hiding spot, taking the guards at the front by surprise. The few poor men who had been stationed outside barely had time to draw their own weapons before they were run through, and Rikke gathered the Imperial troops at the entrance to the ruin.

"Well done. They never knew what hit them." A rare hint of pride was evident in her tone, and a few of the soldiers exchanged small smiles of triumph. "But," she continued, "don't underestimate the Stormcloaks. Many are Legion veterans. They may be traitors, but they know how to fight. We had the advantage of surprise this time, but don't expect it to last. Stay close and follow my orders so we don't stir up the whole place against us at once."

The interior of the ruin was dark and damp, as a ruin is expected to be, and the torches that burned in the hands of the patrolling Stormcloaks made them easy targets for the archers at the back line of the Imperial troops. They fell easily, the weak spots in their armor having long since been studied and taught to the men who fought beneath Lannister in the name of the Imperial Legion.

The room beyond was wide and round, with a narrow entrance, and no sign of soldiers within. Rikke halted sharply before the doorway and dropped to a loose crouch. "I don't like the look of this," she murmured. "It's the perfect spot for an ambush. I'd give ten to one odds that they're just waiting for us on the other side."

One of her men frowned and whispered back. "But there isn't any other way through, Legate."

Rikke shook her head, a deep frown evident beneath the line of her helmet. "Let's not jump to any conclusions yet, soldier. The Legion always finds a way. I'd rather take a moment to look around than walk blindly into an ambush."

She looked over her shoulder and searched for a moment before her eyes fell on Gendry. "Auxiliary, see if you and your men can find another way through. We'll charge in to help as soon as we hear fighting."

Nodding, he steeled his nerves and waved his men into a nearby passageway, leading the way through and up a narrow flight of stairs. At the top was a thin stone walkway, and below, a small group of Stormcloaks were visible, lurking in the shadows.

Turning, Gendry looked to his two archers and nodded toward the men below. Nodding back in understanding, they reached back for their quivers and loosed their arrows with frightening speed, taking out two of the men below. One let out a yelp as an arrow struck him below the arm and at the sound, the legionnaires remaining below charged into the room and dispatched the remaining soldiers.

After dragging their bodies back into the shadowy corners, Rikke looked up at the small regiment and waved for them to continue across the walkway. Gendry obeyed, hoping that they would be able to regroup without trouble. The adrenaline coursing through his veins had him even farther on edge, and he dreaded the thought of turning a corner and coming face to…snout with Robb Stark.

Fortunately, his wish came true, and just as they began to approach a heavy wooden door, their fellow soldiers emerged from a side passageway and Rikke and Hadvar pushed their way into the new section of the ruins, meeting a large stone door with three runes on it, surrounded on each side by a worn and dust-covered wall with runes of its own.

Standing, Legate Rikke moved forward and slid her sword into his scabbard before running a hand across the wall. "This must be the Hall of Stories..."

One of her men stepped to her side and nodded as he surveyed the wall. "I've heard of this. These walls are supposed to show the history of the ancients who built this place."

From behind Gendry, Hot Pie quietly spoke up. "It's too bad we can't read these carvings. Who knows what secrets we could uncover."

Rikke nodded in agreement. "Even if these carvings tell us where the crown is, I'm sure we're going to have to find a way through this door." Turning around, she looked to the leaders of the two regiments below her. "Hadvar, Waters, see what else lies around here. I'm going to look at these carvings. Let me know if you find anything."

"Yes, ser," they responded in unison, before exchanging a glance and moving down opposite sides of the long hall with a few of their men each.

Gendry's side held nothing more than cobwebs and brittle skeletons, but when he returned to the door at the center, Hadvar had returned with a carved dragon's claw of deep ebony. Rikke was eyeing it curiously as they rejoined the others.

"Hmm...perhaps this is what we need. See here, the runes on its bottom match some of those on the door..." She stepped closer to the door and squinted at it for a moment before gesturing for a couple of her men to join her. "Help me turn these panels." They obeyed without question, and after a few long moments of silence save for the scraping of stone, she fitted the claw into a matching spot in the door's center and it slowly rolled away to allow them passage. She looked pleased with herself as she waved the legionnaires through.

Once inside, they were met with another dead end and they split their numbers once more, searching for a secret passage or a path that led...anywhere. The whole area was strangely quiet, and suspiciously devoid of Stormcloak soldiers.

Rikke must have noticed the same, because as Gendry removed the lid of an ancient painted urn to peer inside, she muttered under her breath. "It's a wonder the Stormcloaks hadn't moved farther into the ruin. They must have only just arrived."

Just as Gendry began to wonder if there might have been Stormcloak reinforcements following their path through the dusty old tomb, Hadvar called out from an alcove on the room's upper level. "I've found a lever!" A rusty creak echoed through the chamber as he tugged it loose, and a brief second of dead silence fell over them before the lids on the coffins that lined the lower walls wrenched free and the eyes of the dead inside began to light with an eerie blue glow.

"By the gods," Hot Pie whispered in awe, the hand that held his sword trembling.

Gendry couldn't agree more, but he raised his sword at Rikke's command and charged into the fray regardless, his blade plunging through the dry flesh of the risen dead and reducing them back to mere corpses. As they fell beneath the Imperial swords, he couldn't help but wonder if Vilkas was no longer his only kill, or if these monstrosities counted at all.

They managed to destroy them without casualties, and the whole force moved forward through a door in the wall that had opened at the pull of the lever.

On the other side, a massive chamber opened before them, the chill of its air suggesting a passage nearby that led to the surrounding hills. At the end, exactly before them, sat a throne, and upon it sat a king, long since dead, a crown of bone resting atop the mostly fleshless skull.

The men stood silently, all eyes on the legend that sat before them, ready for the taking. Rikke was the first to speak.

"So it does exist..." Her tone was one of reverent awe, and she slowly began to move forward, drawn by the strange pull of the legendary artifact.

Gendry and his men followed while Hadvar's regiment fanned out across the rest of the chamber, searching for goods of value.

As Rikke's boot scuffed against the bottom step leading to the throne, a dry creak broke the stillness and she froze, holding the icy blue gaze that suddenly met her own. Raising her sword, she called out to her fellow soldiers.

"Steady, legionnaires! We've been through worse...let's get that crown, men!"

Just as the undead king rose from his throne, the sound of marching boots echoed through the doorway behind them, and Gendry whirled around. A tall man in ornate armor appeared at the front and his eyes met Gendry's, severe and determined. Though they were blue, they were eyes he knew well.

"Get that crown from these Imperial bastards, men!" The Young Wolf spat, stalking forward with his sword drawn.

Behind him, he heard the sound of dozen swords being drawn and Hot Pie spoke in obvious panic. "What do we do, Gendry?"

Gendry remained still, his sword low at his side. Behind Robb Stark, a slight soldier in ordinary Stormcloak armor had his sword raised. Her sword raised. There was a dark smudge of stubble across her jaw, and the armor covering her chest was flat, but her eyes were a dark shade of grey that he would never forget.

As he stared, her gaze was drawn to his, and her eyes narrowed dangerously as they met his. Her lips curled back in a snarl and Gendry could feel his heart stop beating as the fangs beneath bared menacingly.

All around him, the sounds of battle rang out, the song of steel faint compared to the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He was vaguely aware of Rikke and Hadvar keeping Robb Stark at bay while the rest of Gendry's regiment moved to protect the crown, his archers and mages moving back to help with the fight from a distance.

In the midst of it all, Arya moved toward him, her sword raised and poised to strike. He was paralyzed, completely at the mercy of this living nightmare.

A scream of pain pierced through the haze in his mind and a loud "Gods damn it!" followed. Before she could reach him, the Stormblade fell back to the doorway and called angrily for his soldiers.

"Fall back, men! Fall back. The Imperial Legion has won this day."