The Palace of the Kings was guarded by two Stormcloaks who stood on either side of the massive door. It had also been guarded by all of Windhelm and its ugly stares, the freezing cold wind, and the Grey Quarter that loomed in the corner of Athene's gaze, reminding her what she was betraying by making this choice.
Eventually, they might thank her. Not today.
"I want to go inside," Athene said to the Stormcloak who'd questioned her. "See Ulfric."
"If I find your hand in my pocket I'll cut if off," he said. But he didn't stop her from entering the building.
It was past time for the townsfolk to bring their troubles before their Jarl. The palace was quiet save for a few nobles at the long table having a late lunch, and Jorleif, the steward. Ulfric Stormcloak slumped on his throne, his second in command at his side.
That second in command, Galmar Stone-Fist, was the only one who noticed Athene's arrival. He sneered.
"I'll die before I let elves dictate the fates of men," he said.
She thought the comment was just for her, but then the conversation with Ulfric continued.
"But why me?" Ulfric muttered. "Why fight for me?"
Athene wasn't in the mood to hear his moaning, but she did think it was a good question. Unfortunately he noticed her before anyone could answer.
"I remember you," he said.
She just about turned and ran. Instead she said, "I was at Helgen."
"Ah yes. Destined for the chopping block."
So were you, she thought. The last time she'd seen this man he'd been tied up and gagged, and his presence at the Cyrodiil border was what inspired the Imperials to behead the whole group without a trial. Athene had been caught up in his mess, and it hadn't endeared him to her at all.
She said, "Then you know one reason I've come here to fight for you."
"To fight the Empire that tried, and failed, to kill you? That's a weak excuse, for an elf."
"Do elves need stronger reasons to fight than any Nord?"
Galmar spoke up. "Why does a wood elf want to fight for Skyrim?"
"Oh, you only take Nords?"
"That isn't what I said."
"I realize you're universe begins and ends at the Skyrim border, but mine does not. At least it didn't until the Thalmor decided to murder my family and cast me out of my home. That's what we get with Imperial rule. Now that I have a chance to do so, I'd like to show how I appreciate their efforts."
Galmar looked to his Jarl, his King, with something in his face like disbelief. But Ulfric was gazing right at Athene, thoughtful.
"They took your home," he said.
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
"And now Skyrim is your home."
She remained silent.
His deliberation was a knife twisting in her gut, but finally, eventually, he nodded at Galmar.
"I think you can do something with her," he said. "Now, excuse me."
He got up from this throne and left the room. Left Athene standing staring at the Nord barbarian whose face twisted as he stared back.
"I can think of a lot of things I can do with you," he said. "But if Ulfric thinks there's something to you, we'll find out."
"Awfully decent of you, to follow your Lord's instructions." Was she pushing it? Athene didn't care. She thought it would have been more suspicious if she'd arrived meek and willing to lick their shoes.
He ignored her and continued. "There's a barracks in this palace that needs attention. See to it, make it shine. I'm sure Jorleif can show you where the buckets and soap are."
She gaped. "You're setting me to cleaning?"
"What's wrong, girl? Don't women work where you're from? The soldiers here deserve a clean place to be when they're not fighting the good fight. Show you respect that, show your dedication, and eventually you'll be one of them."
She'd expected physical labour. Something sure to kill her, not wear down her morale. He was a smart one after all.
No matter. She would be smarter.
"As you say." She turned her back on the barbarian and walked to Jorleif. Accepted the rags and bucket of frothy water he found for her, and dragged it to the barracks. Started work.
Here was the girl, the elf, who had murdered the Emperor of Tamriel. A bit of tidying up wasn't going to break her.
She cleaned until her back ached and her hands were red and raw. Stretching, standing, getting out of the way of the soldiers that had come to lay in the beds she'd made, Athene looked around and realized there was no extra bed for her. Fine. She replaced the bucket where Jorleif had showed her and pushed out of the palace. She'd stay at Candlehearth Hall until she'd been accepted as a real Stormcloak, and given her space. It would be brighter there anyway, and a relief to leave the oppressive atmosphere of Ulfric's court.
As she walked to the inn she passed Brunwulf Free-Winter, who she'd drunk with at the docks what felt like a lifetime ago. She tried to get by without his notice, but he reached out a hand and stopped her short.
"Is it true?" he said quietly. "Did you join them?"
She looked in his eyes. Wanted to say, and knew she couldn't.
He breathed out and shook his head. "I don't get it, lass. I don't and I never will." But he dropped her arm and let her go, the creaks and cries of the Grey Quarter a symphony at his back.
It took her hours to get to sleep that night.