A/N: Happy Monday, again. Here you go and hope you enjoy. I have to head to work soon so I won't say much; just go ahead and get down to it. 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 Valgeir. Specifically, Ulfric's speech is from the former.
Rating: M for some language, brief sexual references, mentions of abuse, violence, and death.
As Arya lie unconscious in the Temple of Talos, her brothers in arms continued their assault against the Imperials on every front. By the time she awoke, they had liberated the Hjaalmarch, Haafinger, the Reach, and the Pale. The others were already under Stormcloak command, and rumours had begun to spread that the final march on Solitude was imminent.
She had awoken and been released from the temple when Ulfric came to her. Jaqen had departed for Winterhold the day before and so she was surprised when she heard a knock on the door of her chambers, and even more so when she opened it to see her commander.
He eyed her for a moment in silence before speaking. "Your advancement through the ranks of my army has been impressive, Snow," he began. "More so now that your true identity has been revealed."
Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her breasts, still unused to the feeling of having them unbound beneath her tunic.
"Why the deception?"
She hesitated for a long moment, but in the end, she opted for the truth. "My name isn't Snow, my lord, nor am I a bastard at all. My name is Arya Stark."
Ulfric's expression grew dark at the familiar name and she continued hastily. "With my sister taken as your wife and my brother executed for treason against you, I did not want my name to influence your opinion of me as a soldier. I came to fight for your army, and I have done so, whether I used my own name or not. As Arry Snow, you had no pre-conceived notions about me. As Arya Stark, I doubt you would have sent me into battle."
At that, he chuckled, and a hint of admiration shone in his eyes. "You're a clever girl, Arya Stark." She nodded in acceptance of the compliment and allowed him to speak again. "And you have proven yourself loyal, despite your name. How are you healing?"
"Slowly," she replied ruefully, rolling her aching joints and trying to ignore the dull pain that radiated from her shoulder. "But I'm eager to get back out on the battlefield." Once there, she would not allow Rorge to escape what he had done. Lommy had been a friend, one of few, and he hadn't deserved to die.
"Good," Ulfric said, smiling. Arya felt uncomfortable with the favor that he showed her, particularly knowing that his violent temper was so very often taken out on her sister. The last time she had seen Sansa, her skin was mottled with new bruises, one of her eyes was all but swollen shut, and it looked as though it were painful for her to walk. The sight had set Arya's blood to boiling.
"I want you at my side for the taking of Solitude," he continued. "Come and see me in a few days' time, once you have recovered, and we will begin to discuss our final actions."
The days passed slowly as her wounds continued to heal, and though the pain was beginning to fade, her heart was heavy. Jaqen had told her of his plans to travel to Solstheim and though they had spent the night together he was gone when she awoke. Neither of them truly wanted to say farewell.
After aimlessly wandering the Windhelm streets and spending hours on end in the training yard reacquainting her shoulder with the use of both sword and bow, she put on her armor again for the first time since the attack on Fort Neugrad and walked to the war room.
Ulfric was there when she entered, as was his new Stormblade, Ralof, and Valgeir, the man that had saved her life.
The Jarl looked up as she entered and appeared pleased by her arrival. "Ah, good. You're all here."
Ralof gazed at her in silence, taking in the now obvious femininity of her features, and when Ulfric noticed his stare, he gestured toward her. "Ralof, Valgeir, meet Arya Stark."
The Stormblade's expression shifted to one of surprise and he gave a shallow bow. "My lady."
Valgeir echoed the sentiment and then smirked slightly. "Pardon me for saying so, my lady, but you make a rather convincing boy."
"Apparently," she countered easily. "Since it took seeing my breasts to finally realize I was a woman after two moons."
Even Ulfric chuckled slightly at that, and she could see lingering amusement in Ralof's eyes as he turned back to the map before him. She knew that the young man had been a close friend of Robb's, and that Sansa had grown to grudgingly trust him as well. Perhaps he would listen to her tale of insurrection among her men.
"We're going to begin our march in two days' time," Ulfric said as he looked proudly down at the map, covered in blue flags, with a single red one still pinned in the leather: Solitude. "The three of you will accompany me there, with two dozen men each. You may discuss amongst yourselves and choose the strongest of your men. Those that remain will stay here in Windhelm until the city is ours."
"What is our plan of attack?" Valgeir asked, looking down at a smaller map that detailed the layout of the capital city.
"You and your men will storm the gate and then fight your way through the market," Ulfric replied, tapping each location and marking his path with a stick of charcoal. "Ralof will follow and take his men toward the Blue Palace. The Jarls that we've replaced have found their new home in the palace under Elisif's care, and we cannot afford to have them fighting against us, particularly not Balgruuf." Ulfric was still bitter about the former Jarl's choice to support the Empire, and he knew that the Nord was a formidable commander and an inspiring leader.
"Stark and I will follow through and take Castle Dour. There, we will cut off Tywin Lannister's head and end this war."
The three soldiers nodded and Ulfric looked up once more. "The Stormcloaks are strong, but the Empire is desperate, and their desperation will lend them their strength. This will not be an easy battle, but we will be victorious. No matter what may happen within Solitude's walls, fight well, or die well." He sighed heavily. "And may Talos be with us all."
Perhaps foolishly, Arya had allowed Rorge to join the march on Solitude, for he was one of her best men. He was not under her command however, and she had warned Valgeir of his penchant for...rebellion.
It was as they stopped for the night on their second day of the march that Ralof approached Arya, taking a seat beside her and offering a smile. "It's good to see a Stark in that armor again," he admitted.
"Yes," Arya said absently. "But we Starks seem to have bad luck with the Stormcloaks."
At that, the Stormblade's expression fell. "Your brother's execution should never have happened. I tried to stop Ulfric, but my pleas fell on deaf ears." Arya nodded silently, and Ralof sighed, looking over to where Sansa sat beside her husband. "And your sister is a strong woman, stronger than many know."
She was only on the march with them because she had been summoned to a party at the Thalmor Embassy, and though Ulfric despised the Thalmor and everything they stood for, he had told her to accept the invitation, if only to spy on the elves and learn of their plans. The pace they set was hard though, and Arya feared for her sister's health, particularly since she was with child.
"She is," Arya agreed, smiling slightly. As children, they had rarely gotten along, but now they were all that each other had and she was coming to love her sister dearly.
"As are you," Ralof added, turning the conversation back to her once more. "Not many women would live as a man to be able to fight in a war."
"I'm not much like other women," she replied. As a werewolf, an assassin, and a soldier, she was very much unlike other women indeed.
He smiled at that, and they lapsed into a companionable silence until Ulfric called Ralof over and he excused himself from her company.
As Arya attempted to fall asleep, she could not clear her mind, images of death swirling behind her closed eyelids. She thought of Vilkas' body, of Gendry's final words, of Hircine, beckoning to her from his Hunting Grounds. When they reached Solitude, many more would die. She could only pray that at the end, she would not be among them.
The morning of the 19th of Evening Star was a clear and cloudless blue. Though tired from their march, a surge of adrenaline ran through the soldiers as the walls of Solitude rose before them, and they knew with certainty that at the end of the day, the war would be over and they would be its victors.
A young woman with long silver hair and a massive sellsword at her side passed them as they approached the stables and something about the man seemed familiar to Arya, though she could not place him. Sansa had already departed on a carriage for the embassy, and so, with Ulfric at their front, they marched, and when the city gates came into view, they halted, as one, and he began to speak.
"This is it men!" he cried, raising a fist in the air. "It's time to make this city ours!" When the soldiers cheered, he continued. "We come to this moment carried by the sacrifices and the courage of our fellows. Those who have fallen. And those still bearing the shields to our right. On this day, our enemy will know the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger, and the exalted righteousness of our cause." His voice rose to a yell and he bellowed thunderously across the troops before him. "The gods are watching! The spirits of our ancestors are stirring! And the men under suns yet to dawn will be transformed by what we do here today! Fear neither pain, nor darkness. For Sovngarde awaits those who die with weapons in their hands and courage in their hearts. We now fight our way to Castle Dour to cut the head off the Legion itself! And in that moment, the gods will look down and see Skyrim as she was meant to be. Full of Nords who are mighty, powerful, and free!"
Drawing his sword, he held it high above his head. "Ready now! Everyone, with me! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!"
With a roar that shook the ground, his men obeyed, and Valgeir led the charge against the gate, battering ram in place. The archers on the battlements shot down volley after volley of arrows as they tried to break their way through, but the majority of them simply bounced from the shields that the soldiers held above them. A low groan issued from the wooden gate, and with a final push, it gave way, allowing them through into the city.
Hundreds of Stormcloaks poured through into the city with their swords raised, and as they cut through the Imperials that met them, they saw only fear and hopelessness in their eyes. As Valgeir and Ralof pushed through the market, Ulfric led Arya and her men up the staircase that led to the castle grounds. An arrow struck Arya's armor, knocking her back, and she nearly tumbled down the stairs, stopped only by a strong hand that held her up. Muttering her thanks, she pushed onward once again, slicing the head from an archer as he drew back his bow.
The yard of Castle Dour was well defended, and Arya charged into the fray. When her sword clashed against another, she met the eyes of her opponent and found herself facing the man that Gendry had died to save. The chubby young Nord had terror in his eyes as he looked at her, and for a moment, she pitied him. She too had lost friends in the course of the war.
"Gate's that way," she said through gritted teeth as their blades met once again, his only clumsily blocking her strike. "Run." When he looked at her in confusion, she yelled at him, striking him across the helmet with the flat of her blade. "Run, you fool!" And he did.
Her brothers in arms were similarly engaged in combat, and she was searching for an Imperial to kill when Ulfric's voice rose over the clashing of steel.
"Stark, to me!"
Shouldering her way through the battle, she made her way to his side to find him standing at the door to the castle, his blade at a young Imperial's throat. He nodded toward the door. "Lannister is in there. It's time to end this."
When Arya nodded, he pressed his blade tighter against the boy's neck. "Do it."
Swallowing thickly, the soldier cried out. "General Lannister! We've beaten them back!"
After a long moment, they could hear the sound of a key in a lock and when the door cracked open, Ulfric slit the boy's throat and tossed him aside, jamming his foot into the space between the door and the doorframe before it could close and slamming it open. As they forced their way in, Arya turned and relocked the door, preventing anyone else from coming to the General's aid.
"Secure the door," Ulfric ordered, and as she finished turning the key, she moved to his side.
"Already done."
There was a Nord woman in full Imperial armor that stood before them, and Arya recognized her as Legate Rikke, Tywin Lannister's second-in-command.
"Ulfric," she warned, almost desperately. "Stop, please."
"Stop what?" Ulfric countered. "Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?"
"You're wrong," Rikke said adamantly. "Ulfric, we need the Empire. Without it Skyrim will assuredly fall to the Dominion."
"You were there with me, Rikke," Ulfric insisted. "You fought beside me and you saw it too. The day the Empire signed that gods damned treaty was the day the Empire died. It is weak now, obsolete. Look how far we've come, and with so little. When we're done rooting out the Imperial influence here in our homeland, then we will take our war to the Aldmeri Dominion."
"You're a damn fool, Stormcloak."
Ulfric's eyes narrowed, but he did not rise to the insult. "Go, Rikke. You're free to leave."
"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in." She drew her sword, and it glinted in the light of the torches on the walls. Behind her, Tywin Lannister watched in silence, his expression cold and calculating. Though he was most certainly facing his own death, his features may as well have been carved from iron for all the emotion they displayed in the face of the Stormcloak's captain.
"You're also free to die for it."
Rikke shook her head, her eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "This is what you wanted? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you want?!"
"Damn it, woman," Ulfric growled, losing his patience. "Stand aside."
She shook her head sadly. "That's not the Skyrim I want to live in."
"Rikke, you don't have to do this."
"You've left me no choice," she replied in resignation. "Talos preserve us."
With a flash, she struck out with her blade, and Ulfric countered, using his superior strength to force her backwards. She fought him with every step that they took, but he was determined, and when he had her pressed with her back against the wall, he spoke to her one final time. "I respected you once, Rikke, and for that, I won't make you suffer."
She struggled in his grip and as her sword clattered uselessly to the floor, he plunged his own into the break in her armor, pushing it cleanly through her heart. She was dead before she fell to the floor.
The general looked completely unaffected by his lieutenant's death, and he eyed Ulfric critically. "We finally meet again, Stormcloak, and this is what it's come to? Murdering your old comrades?"
Wiping the blood from his sword, Ulfric turned on Lannister. "This is it for you, General," he warned. "Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?"
He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, calmly. "You realize this is exactly what they wanted."
"What who wanted?" Ulfric snarled.
"The Thalmor," Tywin Lannister replied, his green eyes almost amused. "They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion."
"It's a little more than a rebellion, wouldn't you say," Ulfric replied, gesturing to the Legate's body.
Tywin went silent for another moment. Finally, he responded. "We aren't your enemies, Stormcloak."
"Maybe not, but you certainly weren't ever our allies."
Lannister shrugged. "Perhaps you're right." With a sigh, he abandoned his pride. "And if I surrender?"
Ulfric snorted. "The Empire I remember never surrendered. But I suppose we both know that that Empire is dead. And so are you."
Head held high, Tywin Lannister nodded. "So be it."
The general was marched through the bloodied streets, over the corpses of his fallen men, and to the chopping block where Eddard Stark was once executed, beginning a war that would continue for many years, and take countless lives in its course. The Stormcloaks gathered around as Ulfric's voice rang out through the streets, listing Lannister's many crimes against Skyrim. And then, with a single swing of his sword, a name was stricken from Arya's list, and the war was won.