18th of Heartfire, 4E 201

Much of the ride to Windhelm had been made in complete silence, with Valkyrie unsure what to make of her company. She knew Ralof, of course, from their escape in Helgen, and was sure enough that he wouldn't try anything. But the five others that rode in front of her, the three Nords and two Dunmer, all seemed to have a look of disdain and uncertainty about them, and Valkyrie didn't like it. Moreover, she found herself quite surprised that Ulfric and his followers had formed an alliance with the Dark Elves, being that Nords and Elves traditionally did not get along. As the seven of them drove their horses up over a hill, the sound of hooves clacking against rock and cobblestone, Valkyrie spied Windhelm's walls in the distance as they reached the top, and the Dragonborn finally decided to throw caution to the wind and probe for information.

"So Ralof," she asked the one familiar face. "What exactly am I walking into here?"

"What do you mean?" Her fellow Nord dropped his horse back in formation to speak to her.

"I don't see why Ulfric couldn't just send a courier," Valkyrie said. "An armed patrol seems like a bit much."

"Err..." Ralof was clearly nervous, and quickly shot a glance at the Elf leading the group, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. "Well, he's sent a few, but... from what I've been told, you've been running from one end of the province to another for weeks. It's been difficult to keep track. So when we received word you were in Kynesgrove, he sent us out right away to find you."

"What does he want with me?"

"Just to talk," the Stormcloak tried to reassure her, but it wasn't working.

"About what?" Valkyrie continued to press.

"Well, he... umm..." Ralof finally sighed. "We've heard tales of you killing a dragon near Whiterun. As well as... reports of... other things happening."

"They're just tales, Ralof," said the Dunmer in front, not even bothering to look back at them. "I would expect you to realize this. There's no way this girl is Dragonborn. It's just damned Imperial propaganda."

"Are you sure about that?" Valkyrie raised her voice to challenge to Elf.

"Quite sure," said Salryn, sneering back at her. The road had finally reached its end, and the group rode up next to a set of stables, where Valkyrie wasted no time hitching Ivory, and giving her a few quick pats. Just beyond the stables was the great stone bridge that led across the river and into the city, and the Dragonborn was quite ready to finally get some answers out of Ulfric, but not before she continued to try getting some out of her escort.

"For a minute I thought you were all going to try and kill me," she said as they led her across.

"You've committed no crime," said the Dunmer captain. "But don't push your luck." Valkyrie was about to retort with something biting and witty, but turned her attention away when Ralof tapped her shoulder.

"Listen," her fellow Nord said. "I can't say what happened at Whiterun, since I wasn't there. But I need you to do me a favor and keep a cool head when you speak to Ulfric."

"Why?" Valkyrie asked. "Am I in danger?"

"No, just..." it was clear Ralof was growing increasingly nervous. "This is his city, and it's full of his most devoted followers. Some folks around here aren't too keen on the idea that there might be another Dragonborn running around."

"Because there isn't!" Salryn exclaimed. "It takes more than running around in dragon scales and a few illusions to be Dragonborn." Valkyrie quickly decided she didn't care for this Elf, but because of Ralof's request, bit her tongue. The group had arrived at the main gates of the city now, and the Dunmer finally turned to face her. "This is Windhelm. The Frozen Hearth Inn is just inside the gates. You go right past in a straight line, and eventually you'll reach the palace." He suddenly stepped closer, and Valkyrie had to resist the urge to shove him away. "Don't dawdle," Salryn continued. "Ulfric doesn't like to be kept waiting."

With that, her escort left her, disappearing to the other side of the city gates, and Ralof gave Valkyrie one last look, as well as a nod, before following his comrades. To say Valkyrie was utterly confused was something of an understatement. Until now, everyone she'd met had lathered her with praise and worship for being the Dragonborn, now there were people doubting that she was what she said? She'd expected it to be a welcome change of pace, but instead found it decidedly annoying.

She stepped through the gates, only now noticing that there was once more snow beginning to fall from the sky, but the streets of Windhelm almost looked like snow and ice had been permanently embedded in their cobblestone streets. What Valkyrie assumed was the inn was just in front of her, with a few other streets diverging from its path, but the Dragonborn recognized the shape of palace from where she stood, just a stone's throw away from the inn, and for a moment she was rather impressed with it's size, seemingly even larger than Dragonsreach or the keep in Markarth. Valkyrie marched onward, careful not to bump into any townspeople or guards and thus draw attention to herself.

Despite this, the Dragonborn felt eyes on her with every step, and she knew she was being watched. Every few feet, be it a Nord or a Dunmer, and there seemed to be a rather large number of Dark Elves in this city, she felt the gaze of anger and disgust on her, and Valkyrie decided that Ulfric Stormcloak most definitely had some explaining to do.

The interior of the Palace of the Kings very much resembled the city streets. Dark stone walls, seeming as though the cold of Skyrim itself had been embedded in the building, with blue tapestries and bear emblems adoring the walls every so often. A large yet empty feasting table took up the center of the room, and just beyond it was an empty throne, assumedly the throne of the Jarl, but he was nowhere to be found. That was, until Valkyrie heard an unmistakable voice coming from an open room just next to the seat.

"You cannot be serious," came the sound of Ulfric's voice, clearly distraught by whatever conversation was happening.

"I am deathly serious, Ulfric!" Came another voice, another heavy Nordic accent, and Valkyrie opted to lean against the wall just outside the door until they were finished. "These damned Elves are a pox on our city. Your father would be ashamed that you would ally with them!"

"And what would you know of my father?!" Ulfric's was clearly now angered, and the sound of hands banging against a table sounded out. "You, who grew up in luxury, never once having to know the pain and the struggles of war!" The other man said nothing in response. "Unworthy to rule us or not, the Empire is still a formidable opponent, and we need capable allies to defeat them."

"And so you would let those vermin fester right in the heart of our city," the other Nord said. "Would you truly forsake your own people in favor of the Elves? Just what are you fighting for, Ulfric?"

Suddenly, the door flew open, and the man, old, gray and wrinkled, dressed in fine clothes, clearly a noble, fell out into the main hall, scurrying away like a rat, his eyes terrified and fixed on the doorway. A moment later, Ulfric himself emerged, fists clenched. "I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil!" he yelled at the noble, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and lifting him to his feet. "I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths!" Ulfric himself was also dressed rather finely, an array of blue fabrics adorned across what almost looked to be a set of armor, as if he expected to go into battle at any moment. "I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces!" he continued, giving the noble a shake. "I fight for my people, impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves!"

At last Ulfric's hand let go of the older man's collar, and moved to gently pat on the side of his arm, but the old noble was still quite literally shivering in terror. "I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight... because I must."

Suddenly another man emerged from the doorway. He was clearly another Nord, dressed head to toe in animal skins, also old like the noble yet built like an ox. The man came up behind Ulfric and put a hand on his shoulder. "Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric," said the lieutenant. "And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough will be the day when soldiers like us are no longer needed." Ulfric turned around to face his comrade, and gave a quick glance to Valkyrie as the noble scurried away like a rat.

"I would gladly retire from the world were such a day to dawn," Ulfric nodded to the other Nord, before stepping forward to face Valkyrie. "Galmar, this is our friend from Helgen. Valkyrie, if I'm remembering correctly?"

"That's right," the Dragonborn gave a slight bow. "You sent for me?"

"Indeed," the Jarl crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "I understand you've been getting into quite a bit of trouble since we last saw one another."

"Not by choice," Valkyrie said calmly. "Trouble seems to have a way of finding me."

"Hmm. Well," Ulfric began to walk back into the open doorway. "You'll have to tell me about it. Come. We have much to discuss."

The Jarl of Eastmarch and who Valkyrie assumed to be his second in command led her up a flight of stairs, and down a long, narrow hallway. With each step the Dragonborn became increasingly unsure whether or not she was being led to her death, or at least a torture chamber, until the trio finally reached the end, a large ornately decorated door staring them in the face.

"Galmar," Ulfric said to the Nord in animal skins. "You may leave us."

"Are you sure, Ulfric?" Galmar suddenly glanced at Valkyrie. "I don't know about about leaving you alone with-"

"Relax, my friend," said the Jarl calmly. "She's not here to cause trouble."

Cause trouble? Valkyrie thought to herself. The fucking nerve of these people, not only to send armed guards after her, but also accuse her of not actually being the Dragonborn? The older Nord named Galmar reluctantly turned away, letting out a groan as he made his way back downstairs, and Valkyrie stepped into the next room with Ulfric.

They were in his personal chamber, this one room nearly the entire size of her house in Whiterun, blue Stormcloak banners adorned nearly every inch of the walls, furniture that had clearly been spared no expense for, and a bed in the center of the room that was larger than any Valkyrie had ever seen. Must be nice being a Jarl, she thought to herself as Ulfric made his way to a cabinet on the opposite wall.

"Please, have a seat," said the Jarl, and Valkyrie did as she was asked, there was a chair and table just next to the door. "May I offer you a drink?"

"Sure," said the Dragonborn, still trying to figure out just what this man's game was. "What do you have?"

"Some fine mead from Riften," Ulfric answered with just a hint of delight. "There's also wine, whiskey, a few Breton craft beers."

"I think I'll just stick with mead," Valkyrie said, causing the Jarl to laugh quietly.

"Spoken like a true Nord," he said, popping the top off of two bottles, before taking a seat opposite from Valkyrie. "Cheers," said Ulfric, as the both of them clanked bottles together and knocked back a swig. "Now, tell me," said Ulfric as his bottle hit the table. "Are you the one the Greybeards summoned last year?"

"Straight to the point, I see," said Valkyrie, taking another sip of her mead. "Yes. I am."

"How did you know it was you they meant for?"

"Oh Gods," the Dragonborn couldn't help but laugh. "I don't even know where to start."

"We have plenty of time," said Ulfric, now leaning back in his chair.

"Alright," said Valkyrie. "Might as well start from the beginning." And so she recited the tale of her time with the Dawnguard in its entirety, from the slaughter of her family as a child, to finding Serana and uncovering the prophecy, their time in the Soul Cairn and the encounter with Durnehviir, all the way up to the final battle with Harkon, where she Shouted the dragon into the mortal plane and subsequently reignited the sun with an arrow made by a literal god. To say Ulfric was shocked would have been an understatement, as the Jarl simply sat there silent, eyes wide.

"I..." he struggled to find his words. "I don't know what to say. About you Shouting on accident, or being involved with a vampire."

Valkyrie suddenly froze. Had she accidentally diverged more than she had meant to? "How did you...?"

"May I be honest?" said Ulfric. "I had my court wizard whip up a little concoction for your drink. Those who consume it find themselves quite unable to lie."

Normally Valkyrie would have been outraged, but something kept her calm and collected. Perhaps a side effect of this potion he had poured in her drink, but the Dragonborn simply scoffed. "If I didn't know better, Jarl Ulfric," she said. "I would think you didn't trust me."

"Well," the Jarl said. "You weren't very forthcoming about being Dragonborn the last time we met."

"You also rode off before I had the chance to talk to you," Valkyrie shot back.

"I suppose that's fair," said Ulfric. "My next question is, what exactly are your intentions?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was going to ask you to keep your status quiet," he explained. "But I believe it's a bit too late for that, seeing as the stories of you killing dragons are spreading across the province. And of course," he gestured towards her vaguely. "This insistence on walking around covered in dragon scales." He then leaned in, now looking Valkyrie dead in the eyes. "What is your purpose as Dragonborn?"

"Honestly," Valkyrie shrugged. "I'm still figuring that out myself. After I'm done here, I have to return the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller to the Greybeards so they can proclaim me Ysmir."

"Proclaim you Ysmir?" This got Ulfric's attention. "That's quite an honor."

"So I'm told," said the Dragonborn quietly. "Beyond that, I also need to go to Riften and find some eccentric old coot who deciphered some prophecy a long time ago."

"I've no doubt this adventure will be quite thrilling for you," said the Jarl dryly. "But I need to know one thing. Do you intend to stand in my way?"

"By stand in your way," Valkyrie picked up on Ulfric's tone, and did not appreciate it. "You mean siding with the Empire and stopping you from becoming High King?"

"Yes."

"No," she shook her head. "I have more important things to worry about than who sits on the throne."

"It's not just about who sits on the throne, Valkyrie," said Ulfric, now leaning in further. "Listen," he continued. "I understand you have some very important business to take care of. But once you're finished, I would like to offer you a place among the Stormcloaks. Help us fight for a free Skyrim, and a new Empire."

Valkyrie couldn't help but laugh. "So first you threaten me," she said. "And now you're trying to get me on your side? I don't think so, Ulfric. I'll leave the political games to you and Elisif."

"Suit yourself," said the Jarl, visibly disappointed. "You may go now, Dragonborn. Gods guide you."

"Not so fast," said Valkyrie just as Ulfric was making to ready to get out of his chair. "I have some questions for you." She could practically see on his face that he was debating internally on whether or not to entertain her request, before finally relaxing back in his seat. "Before I ask them, though," Valkyrie slid her bottle of mead across the table, and the Jarl smirked.

"You don't trust me either, I see," he said, amused.

"I don't," said the Dragonborn sternly, feeling that the effects of Ulfric's concoction were beginning to wear off. "Now drink." Much to her surprise, Ulfric did as he was instructed, and at last, Valkyrie was able to get some gods damned answers. "First off," she began. "Why are you going around claiming to be Dragonborn? What gives you the right?"

"My heritage," Ulfric explained. "I am the last living descendant of Tiber Septim. Or so the Greybeards told me."

"So you did study with them."

"Indeed," said the Jarl. "They chose me when I was just a boy, barely into my ninth winter." He sighed. "There was a time when they genuinely believed I was Dragonborn, as did I. But though I displayed some natural aptitude for using the Voice, it turned out I was not what they suspected."

"So what happened?"

"I stayed, in spite of this," Ulfric continued. "I was to become a Greybeard myself. I spent nearly ten years at High Hrothgar, learning the Way of the Voice. But... then the Great War began, and I simply couldn't live with myself not fighting alongside my kinsmen. So I left, and enlisted in the Legion." He briefly turned his head to look out the window. "I often think about High Hrothgar. It's a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles down here. But that's why I couldn't stay, and also why I couldn't go back. I doubt Arngeir's forgiven me for leaving."

Just when Valkyrie was beginning to doubt the potency of Ulfric's truth serum, he mentioned Arngeir, a name no one who hadn't been inside High Hrothgar could know. So the Jarl was telling the truth, at least, but she was far from done questioning him.

"So if you aren't Dragonborn," she said. "Why are you telling everyone you are? And why did you say it was the Greybeards that told you start a holy war?"

"The people need a symbol to rally behind," Ulfric said, and his brow suddenly furrowed. "Don't look at me like that," he added sternly. "You're young, the Great War was before your time. But I was there, and it was horrible. I saw my kinsmen, men and women I'd known my whole life dying in the most terrible ways at the hands of those gods damned Elves." He clenched a fist. "We sacrificed almost everything to take the Imperial City back from the Dominion, and what was our reward? The Empire surrendering anyway, and in the process signing a treaty that stripped away our culture and our gods for their own." Valkyrie had no response, and so Ulfric continued. "It's no secret that I desire power, but not simply for power's sake," the Jarl said. "These tensions have been brewing since the war ended. If it wasn't me leading this charge, it would have been someone else."

"So you plan to take the throne, and eventually the entire Empire?" Valkyrie asked.

"In time," said Ulfric. "But first we must liberate our country from the Legion, as well as their Thalmor masters."

"You clearly aren't fond of Elves," the Dragonborn now changed the subject. "So why ally with the Dunmer?"

"Because their only choices were us or death," the Jarl said quietly, and before Valkyrie could question what he meant, Ulfric raised his hand. "Not like that. About a year ago, Red Mountain erupted again."

"Again?"

"Yes," Ulfric said. "The last time this happened was in the First Era, it devastated the entire province of Morrowind, countless Dark Elves died in its wake, and the country never truly recovered, yet somehow their people survived and pressed on. But the second eruption?" He sighed. "It was even worse. Less than a third of the Dark Elves in Morrowind survived, and those that did were left with an inhospitable wasteland."

"So they fled to Skyrim?" Valkyrie asked.

"More specifically, I invited them here," the Jarl explained. "The one thing the Nords and the Dark Elves have in common, is that the Empire turned their backs on us in our time of need. And so I offered them a place in Skyrim to rebuild, in exchange for their help liberating us from the Empire."

"But why did the Empire abandon them?"

"The Oblivion Crisis," Ulfric said. "An event that was before both our times, but its effects are still being felt now, two hundred years later. Worshippers of the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon attempted to bring him into our world."

"And they were stopped by Martin Septim and the Champion of Cyrodiil," Valkyrie finished for him. "I've heard the stories. But how do the Dunmer here fit in?"

"Daedra worship is part of their culture," Ulfric said with the slightest hint of contempt. "Ever since the Oblivion Crisis ended, the Dark Elves have been heavily discriminated against by the Empire for their role in it, even though they didn't play one, as Mehrunes Dagon doesn't factor into their religion at all."

"You're awfully tolerant," Valkyrie said. "Especially for a Nord. You're really okay with having Daedra worship going on among your followers?"

"Don't misunderstand," said the Jarl. "I made it clear from the beginning that I would not tolerate any of the more... profane sides of Daedra worship in my city. No sacrifices, no blood rituals, no trying to summon their masters to this world. They are free to worship whatever gods they wish, as are we Nords, but they must do so... in a civil manner."

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Thus far, it's been a productive relationship," Ulfric smirked. "I've even been to a few sermons myself in the Gray Quarter. Have you been there yet? It's like their own little pocket of Morrowind."

"I'm sure I'll see it for myself at some point," said Valkyrie. "But there have to have been some Dunmer that didn't want to join up with you."

"True, many Elves still think themselves above human help," Ulfric shook his head. "Most were able to be convinced to aid our cause. Those that still refused were given a new home on Solstheim."

"The island off the coast?" The Dragonborn asked, and the Jarl simply nodded. "That's pretty close to Morrowind, still. They haven't been affected by Red Mountain?"

"I cannot say," said Ulfric. "I've never been there. Once Skyrim is free of the Empire, I can turn my focus to improving the conditions of her people."

"But I thought your plan was to take the fight to the Empire," Valkyrie said suspiciously.

"And I said in time," Ulfric replied. "This is a fight that cannot be won in a day. My followers and I are playing the long game, as one of my old Legion commanders would put it."

"Glad to see you view tearing apart a country as a game," the Dragonborn spat, shaking her head. Ulfric scoffed, which only angered her further.

"If there was another way," said the Jarl. "I'd have done it already. You're young and naive, so I don't hold your ignorance against you, but the world we live in is not so black and white as the Greybeards may teach."

"Trust me, I have plenty of questions for them, too," Valkyrie stood up from her chair, Ulfric doing the same. Her desire for answers now satisfied, the Dragonborn was content to leave and never set foot in Windhelm again, but before she could even muster a goodbye, the Jarl's chamber doors banged open, in walking an old looking Dunmer dressed in regal garment, and an attitude about him that screamed nobility. Valkyrie could have sworn she heard a groan coming from Ulfric as the Elf pushed his way past her.

"Ulfric!"

"Bolvyn," said the Jarl calmly. "Have you met my associate, Valkyrie? She's the one who slayed the dragon near Whiterun," he turned to Valkyrie, who didn't even have time to object to being dragged into the conversation. "This is Bolvyn Venim, Archmaster of the old House Redoran of Morrowind, now one of my chief advisors."

"Yes yes, pleased," the Dunmer named Bolvyn barely paid the Dragonborn any attention. "Ulfric, that damned lout Rolff Stone-Fist has been trudging around the Gray Quarter again!"

"Again?" Ulfric sighed. "Galmar really needs to teach his brother proper manners."

"This goes far beyond your general," Bolvyn crossed his arms. "When my people agreed to join your cause, you gave your word that there would be no harassment or discrimination from the Nords."

"And I've done all I can to ensure that," said Ulfric. "But it seems a few of my kinsmen still need convincing." He then turned back to the Dragonborn, who already knew where this was going. "Valkyrie," the Jarl said, his tone deceptively gentle and caring. "Would you do a service to my city and put an end to this harassment of our valued allies?"

Valkyrie shook her head, unable to stop from smirking. Ulfric was good at playing this game, she had to admit. "And what exactly would you have me do, Jarl Ulfric?"

"Well, Rolff is the brother of my top general," said the Jarl. "So I can't exactly have him killed or jailed. But..." he paused. "He must be made into an example, if you understand my meaning."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," she nodded, turning right around and giving the Dunmer a nod as she exited the room.