A/N: Hello, everyone. Hope the weather's better where you are than where I am. It's been raining on and off and we've been going in and out of tornado watches so that's not particularly fun. That's what comes with spring I guess. Anyway, here's a new chapter for you. This one's been a long time coming now, and I hope you're satisfied with the way it ends up going down. No notes this time, so just read and enjoy! 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 our new buddy Valgeir.
Rating: M for strong language, suggestive content, violence, death, and references to abuse.
It had been nearly three weeks since the Stormcloak victory at Whiterun when the army's namesake began to gather his troops once more. Arry Snow was among the first called to his side, and the young soldier answered the summons without hesitation.
Arya found Ulfric still in his private chambers, and her stomach twisted when she saw Sansa at the window, shivering in only a thin shift and staring vacantly out at the training yard.
"You asked for me, my lord?"
Ulfric turned at the sound of her voice and nodded, lacing up the front of his tunic and waving for Sansa to retrieve a glass of wine.
"Yes, Snow. I did. I saw your bravery firsthand as you fought beside me in Whiterun, and I heard tell from some of your brothers that you were the one to kill one of Lannister's commanders, an Auxiliary no less. Such work should not go unnoticed."
"Thank you, my lord," Arya replied, though the words sounded hollow. She likewise thanked Sansa when she delivered the wine, and her sister managed to give her a small, conspiratorial smile before returning to the window.
"I'd like to promote you to Bone-Breaker and give you command of your old unit," Ulfric continued, taking a glass of wine for himself and draining it easily.
"I would be honored, my lord."
"Good," he replied. For a moment, he abandoned the soldier at his door and moved to his wife's side, speaking quietly beside her ear before kissing her soundly and then walking from the room. Behind the seemingly affectionate exchange, Arya could see the way he gripped her arm in his fist, and the tears in her sister's eyes as she was forced to kiss him back.
Gesturing for Arry to follow, Ulfric strode down the stairs to the war room as he began to speak once more. "Your new position will place your former commander beneath you." He gave her a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. "I trust that this won't be a problem?" Arya shook her head and he nodded in satisfaction, stopping beside the tactical map.
"I would suggest you gather your men and prepare to fight then, Bone-Breaker," Ulfric said, tapping his finger against one of the red flags. "You're going to take Fort Neugrad."
"Bone-Breaker? Ulfric makes his men sound like savages."
"Mm," Arya purred in reply, nipping playfully at her lover's nose. "I can be a savage when I want to be."
"I know," Jaqen said softly. "A man watched his savage girl just last night, beneath the full moons, when she thought he was asleep."
Arya sighed, and the reminder of her last hunt brought a metallic tang to her tongue. It had been a long time since she had been able to embrace her tainted blood, but beneath the full moons, she had been unable to fight it, and so despite the dangers, she had slipped from her bed and taken to the fields beyond the city, hunting and feasting alongside her wild brethren.
"Yes, well, I know better than to reveal that side of my savagery on the field of battle, though many said that Robb took the form of a beast when he tore through Lannister's armies."
"A girl's own men would kill her if she followed the example of those rumors," Jaqen replied almost warningly, and with another sigh, Arya left his side.
"You can't spend all your time worrying about me," she huffed impatiently, moving to the mirror and retrieving her dwindling stick of charcoal. "I chose to be a soldier, and I'm going to see this through until the end of the war, one way or another."
"But Gendry Waters is dead," Jaqen argued, sitting up. "He was the reason that Arry Snow came to be, and now that he is gone, so too should the soldier be."
"It isn't just about Gendry anymore," Arya replied, turning back to face him. "It's about me. I don't even know who Arya Stark is anymore, and at least as Arry Snow I know something about myself, and I have a purpose. Once the war is over, I'll face myself again, but until then, I'll keep fighting."
Though he didn't seem happy, her lover did not object and stayed silent as she finished her disguise. It was as she was buckling on her officer's cuirass that he spoke again.
"Where is this...Fort Neugrad?"
"To the South," Arya said absently, struggling with a metal clasp. When Jaqen rose and lent his nimble fingers to the task, she continued. "Near Helgen, I believe. Ulfric hasn't forgotten what happened at Falkreath, and he's determined to control the Hold."
When her armor was secure, she placed her helmet atop her head and then turned to face Jaqen once more. With a small smile, he leaned forward and kissed her armored cheek.
"If a girl must fight, then fight, but please...come back."
"Alright, men, listen up!" Arya stood before her unit, legs akimbo and hands planted firmly on her hips. "We've got our orders, and in the morning, we leave for the Falkreath Hold. It's to be a few days march, but we must move swiftly, before the Imperials hear of our plans."
"What are our orders, ser?"
"To take Fort Neugrad and secure the Hold for Lord Ulfric," she answered. "Once there, we're to stay and hold it until he sends more troops to relieve us."
"How long will we have to stay in that bloody place?" Rorge grumbled, his eyes narrowed and his expression openly hostile. The brief truce that had fallen between he and Arry Snow at the Battle of Whiterun had swiftly ended with the younger soldier's rise to command, and though the damage was small, the few men still loyal to him were sowing dissent among the unit.
"As long as we need to," Arya responded. "But if we march our hardest, fight our strongest, and bring those milk-drinkers to their knees, then by the end of the next moon, we'll be winning this gods damned war!"
Though most of her men were relieved to be free from Rorge's command and were friendly with their new commander, there were many grumbles of dissatisfaction at the pace she set for Fort Neugrad. Moving through the forests and avoiding all roads, they marched from sunup to sundown without stopping, only able to rest their weary limbs for a few hours at night before rising again and marching once more. It wasn't until the fort was visible on the horizon that Arya ordered their final stop, and gently but firmly commanded her men to get as much rest as they could before the battle.
It was as they were settling down on their bedrolls and drifting to sleep that Arya withdrew the maps that Ulfric had given her before they had left. Apparently, there were more than a few Stormcloak soldiers held prisoner inside the fort, and when one had managed to escape, he had brought with him the knowledge of the fort's layout and relayed it to his commander. Ulfric had suggested that if they could attack the fort from the inside and free the soldiers within, they would be more than willing to lend their help in the battle.
The maps revealed a narrow passageway to the prisons from somewhere outside the fort, and as she studied the surrounding areas, she pinpointed its location within a nearby lake. Removing a roll of parchment and stick of charcoal from her knapsack, she began to mark out the positions of her men. She would lead the way through the back entrance and leave those most loyal to her at the fort's gates as a distraction.
With Rorge and his men at her side, she would storm the prison, taking the Imperials by surprise, freeing their fellow Stormcloaks, and then opening the outer gates from within to allow the rest of the men through to take the exterior.
Satisfied with her plan, she rolled up the parchment once more and returned it to her knapsack. Sighing heavily, she set out her own bedroll, and with the light of the waning moons high above them, they slept, for in the morning, they would rise, and they would fight.
"This is it, men!" Arya had just finished giving the word of her plans and was standing amongst her fellow soldiers, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Some of us will die today, but when we do, we will die for Skyrim, and she will reward us for our loyalty in the halls of Sovngarde. So fight without fear, and show these Imperial bastards what the Stormcloaks are made of!"
A roar of approval followed her words, and without hesitation, the men broke apart into their respective groups and began the charge on the fort. Lommy, however, remained at her side.
"Why can't I go with you?" he asked, not for the first time that morning.
"Because I need you at the gates," Arya replied, patiently. "I know that I can trust you, Lommy. I need Rorge close to me, so I can watch him, and I need you to lead the men at the gate. Please, Lommy. I need you up there."
With a sigh, he finally gave in, and after only a moment of hesitation and a final backwards glance, he ran off to follow the other men. Satisfied, she turned back to the soldiers still with her. There were three others besides herself: Rorge, a veritable monster known only as Biter—a name which he had most certainly earned—and a man named Raff the Sweetling. She was certain that each of them wanted her dead.
"Let's go," she ordered, setting off toward the lake. She had gone out to see the entrance in the early hours before sunrise, and though it was beneath the water, it was not far, and the door gave way easily, allowing them to swim through to solid ground before their armor could drag them down and drown them.
The hall inside was dark and narrow, its walls crumbling from the moisture of the lake above. They made their way through swiftly and silently, and within minutes, they could hear the distant sounds of voices, not yet raised in alarm.
With a gesture, she commanded Raff to open the door before them, and when it finally gave way, it opened on a dim room filled with dirty, rusted cells. Its single guard was dispatched easily with the dagger at Arya's hip, and as she pulled it from his corpse, the men inside the prison began to stir.
"Are you here to rescue us?" one of them whispered, to which Arya nodded. Taking the keys from the jailor's belt, she set to unlocking the cells, and in the end, there were five fellow Stormcloaks that joined them, eagerly grabbing weapons from the walls.
One of them stepped toward Arya, and with a crooked grin of obvious relief, he spoke. "Thank you for rescuing us. Much longer in there and we might've had to turn to cannibalism." Though it was an obvious jest, Arya cringed and he gave a nod of apology. "Regardless, we owe you our lives..." He raised his eyebrows and Arya finished for him.
"Snow. Arry Snow."
"I'm Valgeir," the man replied. "And my sword is yours, Snow. As are those of my men. We're ready to go home and send the whole damned Imperial army to Oblivion."
As he spoke, the first cries of alarm issued from within the fort, and Arya drew her sword. "As are we all."
The Imperials within were still fumbling for their weapons when the Stormcloaks charged through the prison, and they were cut down without mercy. At the scuffling sound of footsteps from behind, Arya whirled around, but there was no one in sight, and so she continued on, fighting alongside her men as they pushed their way through the fort. One of Valgeir's men fell before they reached the entrance, but his brothers in arms got their vengeance, leaving behind a trail of blood and corpses.
"The gate mechanism is just outside," Valgeir said when they reached the doors. "I'll take my men and go open it so yours can come through."
Arya nodded in agreement and looked back at the soldiers behind her, each bleeding, but mostly uninjured. "Good. We'll stay here and make sure that the fort has been cleared."
With a nod, the former prisoners stormed from the fort, leaving their rescuers behind. As the door closed behind them, Arya turned back to face her men. "Each of you take a passageway. Check for anything of value and make sure that every Imperial is dead."
It was as she was turning away that she was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to the small of her back as her sword clattered uselessly to the ground. Biter turned her roughly to face his leader and Rorge eyed for her a moment in satisfaction before he spoke. "I don't think so, bastard," he sneered. "It's really a shame what happened to you, but you did say that some of us would die today. It's the sacrifice that all soldiers must make. We just couldn't save you in time." With a growing smirk, he nudged the corpse at his feet and added, "But we took vengeance for you, Bone-Breaker, and Ulfric will know as much."
Before she could manage to break free, he was lunging toward her, and his blade sunk deep into the cleft between her cuirass and pauldron, just beside her heart. Biter's teeth sank into the flesh of her arm as the sword found its mark and with a gasp, she stumbled backwards, clutching at the blade and wrenching her arm away. Her vision grew dim as the blood poured from her wounds and she fell to her knees, her head spinning.
The sound of running footsteps came from the prison, and Lommy burst through a moment later, yelling at the top of his lungs. "You've killed him! I saw it! I saw you do it! Ulfric will know what you've done you traitorous sons of whores!"
"You didn't see nothing, boy," Rorge snarled, and as the young soldier opened his mouth to speak once more, Raff's sword found his throat, and all that came out was a sickly gurgle as he slid to the ground, dead before he hit the dirt.
Arya's head hit the stone floor as she fell and her vision swam. Behind the darkness she saw the shape of a wolf, and she knew in her heart that it was Hircine, coming to take her away to his hunting grounds as payment for the gift he had bestowed upon her. She thought of Jaqen as she struggled to breathe, but it was Vilkas that stood beside the Huntsman, for they had known that their cursed blood would let them be together in death, when that day came.
Hircine was just raising his head to call her to his realm when the door to the fort opened, and she heard voices above her.
"By the gods, what happened here?" It was Valgeir who spoke, his voice loud and angry.
"We were going to clear the fort when one of our own burst through and stabbed the commander," Rorge stammered. "We killed him, but it's too late for Snow."
Valgeir fell down beside her, and she felt his fingers at her throat as she wheezed weakly, blood bubbling through her lips. "No it's not. He isn't dead. Help me get off his armor."
Unbelievable pain shot through her as the sword was pulled from her chest, and she began to lose consciousness as the soldier unbuckled her cuirass and then tore open the tunic beneath to get at the wound. Just before it all faded to darkness, she heard Rorge speak, his voice quiet and filled with awe.
"Bloody hell...he's a woman."