-It's definitely getting colder where I live; I suppose that can be seen as symbolic to where exactly we are in the story right now too. Enjoy!-


The group had hardly taken more than five steps within the city before a loud shout filled the air. A man's shout, throaty and guttural. Illia's inner self jumped to alertness upon hearing it, while trying to look around at where the the noise had come from. While she nor the others immediately found the source, another sound filled the air. The sound of glass shattering, and footsteps echoing across the stone ground. Shooting her head to the side, Illia quickly scanned all before her, then caught sight the source of the noise.

A man came charging towards the group. A man with a mustache, a cocked back fist, and the angriest glare either of the three women had ever seen. From the steps he took however, they were wild and uncoordinated, suggesting the man was a bit intoxicated. As he drew closer to the group however, it became very obvious that Illia was his intended target!

With a yelp, Illia jumped to the side and clear of the man's soaring fist, letting him fly straight past. With the forward momentum and the lack of proper footwork, the man was left to positively stumble to the ground.

"By... by Juliannos!" Illia exclaimed with a hand over her heart. Her breathing became rather erratic from this sudden excitement thrust at her. She looked down at the man in question, though almost scared to do so.

The group watched as the man slowly brought his hands down to pull his body off of the ground. After a moment, his head snapped back to look back up at the group. His face still held the meanest, nastiest glare, leveled specifically at Illia. Even from the distance and from his placement on the ground, the pungent smell of alcohol could smelt on the air, coming from him.

"YOU! You're a d-damned imperial!" he pointed an accusatory finger at the mage, "Get out of our c-city, you filthy piece of TRASH!" The man practically slurred his words, yet the anger and malice were no less present in his tone.

Siffre matched his glare with a frowning glare of her own. She reached a hand behind her to unsheathe her great-sword, until a hand stopped her. Lydia's hand!

"Wait, my thane... He's clearly drunk, can't you tell?" she said.

"Lydia... he tried to-"

"Because he's drunk!" Lydia urged, "Trust me, I've stopped plenty of drunken brawls before. No one is ever in their 'right' mind, until they wake up the next day..." Siffre stared back at her housecarl's face staring at her, before glancing down at the drunken assailant. By now he was struggling, and failing to pull himself to his feet. With a grumble, Siffre lowered her hand, without a great-sword within it.

"Alright Rolff, that's enough outta you..." Kjarngar stepped forward to the man's prone form. He reached an arm down and effortlessly pulled him to his feet again, "Why don't you head on back to Candlehearth for another round?"

"Kjarngar, you mad?" 'Rolff' slurred his confused words as he looked back at the stormcloak commander, "First two grey-skins walkin' around all shady-like, now there's an Imperial here in our streets! Probably a s-spy! Let me atta-! I'll get the secrets out of-!"

"Rolff Stone-Fist! Enough I said!" Kjarngar exclaimed. The drunken man ceased his vocal ranting, but his glare was still fixed squarely upon Illia. The mage continued to shiver from the sheer intensity of the look this man was giving her. At least, the look he was giving her was briefly broken from the sound of jingling coins. Both Rolff and Kjarngar looked at each other as the latter dropped a small coin-purse in his hand. Rolff gave the purse a quick squeeze in his fingers, his glare lightening up with each grip in his hand, "There, that should be plenty for another round or two!" The stormcloak clapped the drunkard on the back, specifically to lead him on in the direction of a building located in the center of this massive courtyard, "Now on your way, and head straight home come last call- no detours!" Rolff ended up practically hobbling on one foot after the other as he stumbled his way up the stairs towards the building.

"All Hail to Ulfric! You are the High... King!" Rolff continued to drunkenly slur his words even as he walked off and sang to himself. He eventually made his way up to the building's doors and managed to pull his way inside, slamming the door behind him. Alone once more, Kjarngar spared another glance at the three women, before motioning them to follow him. Four made their way up the steps that took them along the left side of the building, 'Candlehearth Hall' as it was called. As they took steps of their own, the women were quick to find that they could easily slip on this slick, snow-covered ground. The ever present miniscule snowflakes that fluttered all around them from above didn't help either.

"Are all the civilians usually... well, like that?" Lydia spoke, indicating to where Rollf had gone. She was careful in making casual and cautious small talk.

"Ah, that's just how the brother of the Jarl's right hand man shows his love for his country. He's as patriotic as any other true son and daughter of Skyrim!" Kjarngar heartily proclaimed, "Ulfric will be our next High King after all! He'll save our land from those damned Imperials and those bloody Thalmor." He bit off that last word as if he were muttering a cursed insult.

"The Thalmor...?" Lydia spoke aloud. She was familiar with that group. A number of times she'd seen a group of Altmer calling themselves that name appear before Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. They were supposed to be 'enforcers' of a treaty that had ended a war that the Jarl himself had fought in. She'd never been privy to what exactly they discussed with him, but they'd always cast her strange, condescending looks. Plenty about them always rubbed her the wrong way.

"Blasted elves will never set foot here in Windhelm, let me tell you," Kjarngar practically growled, "You ask me, having those dark elves in the Grey Quarter was bad enough..."

"Um, what's a 'Thalmor'?" Illia asked. Her voice was lowered and her question more directed at the two women rather than Kjarngar. This earned a look from Lydia.

"You don't know about the-" she started until she caught herself, quickly realizing who it was she was talking to, "Oh right, of course you wouldn't know... Well, they're part of the Aldmeri Dominion. Hailing way over from Summerset Isles, way I hear; the land of the High Elves."

"High Elves?" Illia said, "Well, I don't think I've ever seen that many of them..."

"Maybe... it's better you don't ever meet them," Lydia remarked. She said nothing further, which Illia took as a sign to not question further as well. With that the group continued to walk through the city. Looking up and around them, they could see the large stone walls that stretched high up, almost sheltering them from the very sky itself. It was not a feeling of perfect shelter however, as the snowfall persisted even within. As such a thin layer of snow kept the stone of the city constantly covered in a layer of white. This contrasted a great deal in color from the stone's much darker color.

As they walked further inward, two walls stretched inward slightly as if to look like a makeshift entryway. On either side of this entrance lay two plaques, both of them with different names etched in their stone. The one on the left read 'Harald', but the one on the opposite side was what drew Lydia's attention.

"Olaf One-Eye?" she read aloud, directing her attention to the man, "Why is his name there?"

"High King One-Eye? Why wouldn't he be?" Kjarngar replied with his hearty tone, "Only one of Skyrim's greatest heroes! His is just one of the names that Windhelm pays special recognition to!"

Lydia had heard her fair share of the name Olaf One-Eye in the past from Proventus Avenicci. The man had talked her ear off many times when teaching Whiterun's history to her, per part of her 'education' as Jarl Balgruuf had called it. It had bored her to tears back then, in her more wilder teenage years, especially when Proventus had mostly described Olaf in his endeavors of establishing Whiterun on a political and economic level. Few things did stick out for her though, such as the 'embellishment' of when the man supposedly not only fought a dragon but imprisoned it within Dragonsreach itself. She remembered wondering back then how that could've even been possible. Leading it back by collar and chain? Flying it? Her mind back then ran wild with thoughts and notions.

And now to see this very name, written upon a wall of a city completely different from the one she grew up in. It was a strange thing indeed, like seeing an old relative in a different part of the world. A part of Lydia wished she'd paid more attention to Proventus' teachings, just so she could know what Olaf might've done to reach the ears of this city. Especially given the exact kind of people Windhelm was home to.

Finally, after a minute of walking through snow-flaked wind whipping at their skin, the four neared a large building. The massive front rose high in front of them, twin doors on both sides of a lit brazier, and a stone bird-like creature adorning the very top. The statue stared straight down, maw open, upon the people down below it, as if expecting them. The three women noted this strange stone head, yet continued to walk onwards. Standing in front of the brazier a guardswoman stood with her gauntlets poised on her hips and scanning all directly in front of her. Instantly she caught sight of Kjarngar and the three women he led, and silently nodded to him. He returned the gesture and led the group with him to one of the doors. He pushed open the massive door with seemingly little effort, despite the deep, heavy resonating it carried out through the air. One by one they each slipped through out of the icy wind and deep within.

Immediately the three women felt relief upon them. No longer was there any nipping chill of cool air stinging their skin, but now was a warmer feeling. It was almost pleasant, and given the city they were in, it was almost surprising. Illia even failed to keep an audible sigh from escaping her lips.

"Much better...!" she said, pulling back her hood to expose her head to the new warmth, "And, look at this place! It's so... huge!"

"So this is where they're Jarl resides in?" Lydia said as well, "I guess I shouldn't expect any less for a Jarl."

"Damn right it is!" Kjarngar Ice-Veins declared, before casting a quick glance in Siffre's direction, "Dragonborn... welcome to the Palace of the Kings!"

"It's... incredible..." Siffre spoke softly. Her tone was soft, but it still carried a sense of awe within it. She looked around at the massive hall they stood within, nearly every square inch of the room was made of stone, the same color as that seen outside. In fact, this stonework and care reminded her very much of the pristine shape she'd seen High Hrothgar's halls in upon arrival. This massive hall they stood within was also one single, large room, stretching all the way back to what must have been the length of the building itself. From where she stood, a set of doors flanking the end of the room on each side could also be seen. There was also a large, long table situated in the very center of the room; a dining table, with many chairs arranged all around it.

But the one great feature within this room, was at the very end. There stood a large stone rising, with a chair carved out in its center. On each side of this throne, hanging down from the ceiling were two identical blue banners, depicting a snarling bear with a tattoo marking on its cheek. Windhelm's symbol's shape flowed in a liquid-like motion along with its banner. Directly above this stone chair hung a circular, stone image of a shield, with crisscrossing swords behind and beneath it. On the throne, the dark image of a man, contrasting against the gray of the throne, could be seen sitting upon the throne. From their current distance, the three women could barely see whom it is. But neither of them needed to wildly guess as to who it was.

With Kjarngar leading the way, Siffre, Lydia, and Illia made their way into the room and closer to the throne. As they drew closer, Jarl Ulfric's form could be seen in ever clearer detail, but also voices could be heard even clearer as well.

"My Jarl, perhaps if you were to simply consider the-"

"And as I have made it clear to you, my mind is made up. I simply cannot allow it, not at this time." As the group drew nearer and closer, the figures in question could be seen much clearer. Standing up and below the throne itself, one figure was dressed in mage's garb, very similar to what Illia wore, while the other was clad in armor, plates shaded a dull silver and the torso piece a faded red. The man in the armor also held a hammer upon his back, with a rather unfamiliar design to it. No type of war-hammer crafted in Skyrim has ever looked like this one.

"I assure you, Jarl Ulfric," the armored man spoke, "The threat is real. Monsters out of nightmares stalk these lands; werewolves, vampires and the like. Were us Vigilants of Stendarr and the Dawnguard allowed to patrol here in your Hold, you and your people's safety would most definitely be guaranteed."

The man upon the throne could be seen in perfect clarity now, even though his attention had not been directed to the group of four at the moment. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak sat upon his throne, a hand to his chin, and a studious yet narrowed look upon his face. He was clad in royal garments shaded black, fur trim along the coat edges that hung down his front and around his neck. Even from his sitting position, a war-axe could be seen hanging off of his belt.

Most striking about him however was his head. Or rather, what lay atop his head. Adorning his head was what appeared to be a crown, with numerous small, white jagged pieces sticking up from along its edges. Based off of their precise color, and from the angle in which this crown was viewed, these pieces almost appeared to resemble teeth! Actual teeth, comprising this crown on his head!

'The Jagged Crown, of song and legend...!' Lydia thought to herself. This was something that Balgruuf himself had imparted to her as per part her education, but never did she think she'd ever see it in real life! Yet there it was, being worn by the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion himself!

Jarl Ulfric lowered his hand from his mouth, his expression still stern. He must have not noticed or regarded her nor her companions yet, as his attention was still focused completely on these other two. This 'Dawnguard' and Vigilant of Stendarr, something or other.

"Your conviction and dedication to your belief is commendable," he spoke to them, "However, there have been no sighting of any werewolves or vampires, by either citizen or one of my soldiers, here in my Hold. Thus, I cannot afford to waste resources upon 'unproven allegations'. Especially while in the midst of freeing my land from oppression of a very real and credible threat. Unless your two groups would aid in fighting 'this' one, I cannot allow your 'patrols' in my Hold. My answer remains no." Very audible grumbling could be heard from the two men, the armored man in particular. His face twisted in barely contained anger himself, yet did not explode at all. He instead let out a small, silent sigh.

"Unfortunate an agreement could not be reached, my lord," he said, preparing to turn to leave. He and the mage companion turned completely to leave, spinning around to leave on the same side of the room the four people were standing. They watched as the armored man practically stomped his heavy boots past them. The mage on the other hand cast a rather strange look towards them.

Or rather specifically, towards Illia.

The ice mage watched in turn as this mage seemed to regard her with a look of... scrutiny? His eyes had narrowed as they looked upon her. She felt rather uneasy under his gaze, along with the fact that he did not say a single word. He just... looked at her...

And then he was gone. Just as quickly as he cast his look upon her, he had already passed her and the group, along with his own companion. Illia watched on as the two of them left, a feeling of relief filling her being. There was something about that man, the mage, that felt 'off' to her. He had not said a single word to her, and Illia found herself desiring never to speak to him at any point...

"Ice-Veins, at last," Jarl Ulfric spoke up again. The attention of the four was now focused solely on him now. Kjarngar advanced forward to stand before him, with the three women one at a time following directly behind, "After that lengthy 'discussion', some good news is welcome for a change..." The lesser stormcloak commander glanced about in the Jarl's general direction, between the man himself and the more common-garbed man standing off to the side.

"Is Galmar Stone-Fist himself not here, my lord?" Kjarngar asked. Jarl Ulfric shook his head.

"He is still out, having left for the Rift a few days ago," he answered, "His operation there is not likely to conclude for a while now."

"And who were those two if I may ask, my lord?" Kjarngar asked, indicating to the two men departing the room. At the same time as his question, the familiar booming noise of the doors could be heard. A glance behind them let them know that the two men in question had completely departed from the Palace of the Kings.

"'Representatives', one of the Vigilants of Stendarr, and this 'Dawnguard'," Ulfric explained, "Claiming there to be 'wicked creatures' roaming my lands. As if I don't have enough to worry about..." He quickly shook his head, the teeth of the Crown itself almost blending into one from the quick motion, "As for you though, I dispatch you and a group of my men to face a 'real' dragon, and you return alone?"

"Please don't misunderstand my lord, we return victorious," Kjarngar said, "The threat of the dragon has been dealt with, and Kynesgrove is safe. I just ordered the men to deal with... encroachers to your land on the way here."

"I see..." Ulfric said. His lips pursed, but he still gave the subtlest of nods, "In that case, you and the group must be compensated for your efforts..." He turned to his side and gestured to the man standing attentively. The mustached man nodded in turn and pulled forth a coin-purse, then handed it off to Kjarngar, "This should more than suffice for you and your... hm?" In the middle of his speech, Ulfric trailed off as his gaze fell upon the women, "Kjarngar, your men are not with you, but rather instead three strangers are brought before me?"

"Ah yes, them..." the lesser stormcloak commander said, turning his head to face the three women, "As it turns out, my lord, these three played a rather large role in defending Kynesgrove themselves. Apparently they had not only fought the dragon as well, but also... they had slain it." His finger then pointed to Siffre specifically, "Due in no small part to her as well. Jarl Ulfric... she is in fact, the 'Dragonborn'." At the mention of the word, Jarl Ulfric's eyes widened ever so slightly. He fixed his gaze upon Siffre for a solid handful of seconds, as if there were nothing else in the world in that moment. Siffre also returned his stare with one of her own. In the past she'd fall meeker to higher authority figures staring her down, but she stood her ground this time, looking back up at him. They both stared at each other with equal interest of each other.

"My my... the Gods truly do have a strange sense of humor, don't they?" he suddenly spoke. His strange choice of words earned a look from Lydia, unsure of what he was getting at, "Never did I think I would see you again. From the condemnation that was Helgen, all the way here before my throne."

"I... I didn't think I'd see you again either..." Siffre spoke, rather softly. Lydia shot a look towards her thane. Again? What was she talking about?

"My th- Siffre?" she said, "What do you mean 'again'? Have you... 'met' him before?"

"Yes," Siffre replied, "Jarl Ulfric was there too... At Helgen." Lydia's eyes widened in absolute shock now. Jarl Ulfric was there too!? He was present to the dragon attack that had completely destroyed Helgen? And what's more, he had somehow survived?! To use his own words, the Gods must really have a strange sense of humor.

And why had she not told her this sooner?

"And I am only alive today due in no small part to the efforts and sacrifices of my fellow brothers and sisters to the cause..." Ulfric spoke, "Ralof, Gunjar, Jorman, all of them... They gave their lives so that I could escape from that Oblivion-damned place and that dragon. Their efforts surely earned them places of honor in Sovngarde. And it would seem the Gods look favorably upon you as well, 'Siffre'. To have not only survived Helgen, but to live long enough to discover your own destiny. You are Dragonborn, as the Ice-Veins here claims?"

"Yes, I am Dragonborn," Siffre replied sincerely, "I can use the Thu'um... as well as speak at all now."

"The Thu'um..." Ulfric said, "I, as well as a handful of others here in my city, also heard the mighty voice of the Greybeards, summoning for you specifically. I take it you have answered their summons and learned from them?" Siffre nodded, "That is good... Personal beliefs aside, they prove to be instrumental in the imparting this knowledge."

"Yes, we did visit the Greybeards," Lydia found herself suddenly speaking up. She suddenly stopped talking upon realizing that all eyes were upon her now.

"Hmmm...?" Ulfric leaned forward again to study Lydia this time, "Ah, Jarl Balgruuf's devoted housecarl, Lydia Volrune! I thought I had recognized you from somewhere."

"W-what?" Lydia said with widened eyes, "How? How do you know me? I don't remember ever seeing you at Dragonsreach before."

"Oh but I have, likely many a year ago," Ulfric explained, "I visited Balgruuf in Whiterun once or twice in the past on business. I remember seeing you as a younger girl back then. What a fine woman and warrior you've grown up into it seems." The lightest of flushes could be felt on Lydia's cheeks. It was both from the light praise, but also from a little embarrassment as well. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about someone else around Balgruuf's age praising her.

"Tell me child, how is the Jarl of Whiterun these days? Content? Living a peaceful life?"

This strange, rather random and out of nowhere inquiry only stoked Lydia's unease. Of course Balgruuf would be doing alright... at least she hoped. But the rather peculiar way the Jarl of Windhelm had asked her this.

"He is... well enough?" she replied, "Doing what he can to keep his people safe, from any sort of threat."

"As any proper lord of his Hold should do," Ulfric replied in a lighter tone from before, "That is good to hear of him. Although I have to know- how does a housecarl devoted to the service of the lord of Whiterun find herself in the same party as that of the Dragonborn?" Lydia found her eyes meeting Siffre's as the two looked at each other. Memories of when and how they met filled their minds. A dragon had been slain back then, just as one had been slain now. Both times had the two of them fight the beast, and in the interest of saving a territory belonging to a Hold's Jarl. This has been quite the adventure so far indeed.

"The Jarl of Whiterun had recognized her as a person of great importance to his Hold," she explained, "She is a hero, and was granted the title of thane for her services. I myself was assigned as her personal housecarl. I have traveled with her ever since." As she spoke, Jarl Ulfric regarded what she said with a very small smile upon his lips. It was hard to see both under his beard and from how small it was, but it was there.

"I see, that thoroughly explains that," the jarl said, "But it does leave the question of this one..." His hand gestured towards Illia. The imperial winced a little as attention in the room was now shifted to her. They eyes of many Nords were upon her, one of them being these 'stormcloaks'' leader himself! If the man himself was anything like how his men conducted themselves, perhaps there was cause for worry.

Before she said anything, she caught a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. Lydia was looking at her, or rather casting her a differing look. A slightly tilted head with a raised eyebrow. A reminder to be careful? She would most certainly do that. But what could she say exactly...?

"Oh me? I'm uh... I'm just a travelling wi- er, a travelling mage!" she quickly caught herself. Maybe it was better these Nords not know about 'that' little detail, "Met these two on the road, you see. Nothing all that special I'd say-"

"You were also helpful in besting the dragon though..." Siffre suddenly cut in. Illia shot her a look. Was that the thing to say at this time? Even Lydia was giving the Dragonborn a look. Before Illia could retort with anything, Siffre had turned her gaze back up to the Jarl, "It is true... It was through her aid as well that we... we were able to slay the dragon. She's... proven her worth." In a matter of moments, Illia felt her fear she felt welling up become something else. She felt... pride? Someone was actually vouching for her? Someone that definitely wasn't even a mage, an imperial, or even a witch like she once was! Even compliments she'd received from Sylvia were far and few between.

The Jarl on the other hand leaned back into his throne. The look that adorned his face changed as well.

"For an imperial to receive praise equal to a Nord, straight from the mouth of one, no less... it's almost unfathomable..." he spoke softly as if to himself, "Kjarngar, can you vouch for the Dragonborn's claim? This mage having assisted them?"

"Ah well..." the stormcloak commander hesitated for a moment, "As it happens, me and my group had arrived at Kynesgrove a bit too late to catch the dragon. By 'her' claim, she and her companions had already slain it..."

"My own soldiers, beaten to the punch..." Ulfric said with a light shake of his head, "Kjarngar, leave us. Take the coin-purse and make sure it's distributed accordingly to the men you took with you. Let them know their efforts were... appreciated."

"My Jarl, we will surely be faster on the scene next-"

"Do as I command, Ice-Veins," Ulfric interrupted, "Besides, I would have a moment to speak with the Dragonborn and her companions alone now." The three women could see the rather flustered look upon Kjarngar's face. In the midst of him stammering for words, he finally gripped the coin-purse in his fingers of one hand, then spun around to depart. The others watched after him for a moment as he walked back down the length of the Palace, finally arriving at the door.

"Now then, I feel it necessary to compensate you as well, Dragonborn," Ulfric gestured his hand towards his steward again. The other man fetched forth another coin-purse, slightly smaller in size compared to the first one, and handed it to Siffre. The woman tested the weight of the small bag in her hand, squeezed it in her fingers, smiling more and more with each test she did.

"It's, this is..." she looked up at the Jarl, "Jarl Ulfric, why would you...?"

"I thought it rather obvious," Ulfric said with a shrug, "If you really are responsible for the slaying of the dragon and the preservation of a settlement of my Hold, it is only right that you reap the rewards of doing so." He slowly set down his hand that he'd had close to his chin before, "With the emergence of a true hero to Skyrim such as yourself, this is the absolute least I could do for you."

"You... you think I'm a hero?" Siffre said, lowering her hand that held the coin-purse in it.

"Aye, that I do," Ulfric said with sincerity, "As it is, Skyrim is in dire need of heroes these days. Real heroes. The sort of people who will stand for her defense in times of crises. On top of the very real war for her independence, now I'm getting talks of dragons and even werewolves, vampires and other horrors that crawl out from the depths of Oblivion to harass my country." His head tilted with a raised eyebrow, "Perhaps the thought has crossed your mind at any point? Joining up and furthering the cause?"

"Furthering the cause..." Siffre said, "You mean... join your ranks? Become a stormcloak?"

There it was again. That feeling in the very pits of Lydia's stomach. It was a deep and heavy feeling. Like her insides felt a tad heavier within her being. She at the same time felt another chill from within run down her spine. All this from the words that the Jarl of Windhelm had just extended to Siffre, her thane. Slowly but surely, Lydia came to the realization of what it meant.

She was jealous.

"My thane," she spoke up, "You... you're not really... I mean, you already-"

"I was just a little surprised is all," Siffre said, glancing towards Lydia. The housecarl was silenced, but her inner anxiety did not lessen. That is, until she shook her head slightly and looked back up upon the man upon the throne, "I don't know if it'd be wise though... to be tied up in any civil war..." Her eyes then narrowed a little, "After all... I'd had gotten more than enough of that at Helgen..." And just like that, Lydia felt her spirits lighten just a little. A rather blunt and straightforward answer, but Siffre had made her decision known.

"Ah yes, Helgen." Ulfric said with bemusement, "You of all people would understand that... nasty bit of business. The Imperials planning to execute noble sons and daughters of Skyrim for the 'crime' of fighting for our homeland? And you- you were next in line for their chopping block were you not? What were you even guilty of...?"

"I-" Siffre started, but quickly caught herself. Perhaps it was better to not reveal that part of her life. One person was enough already, "I'd... rather not say..."

"Hmm, yet the Imperials cared not for your reasons regardless, did they?" Ulfric pressed, "I remember you never even saying a word there, yet so eager they were to 'make examples' of the slightest threat to their order. Their cowardly rule."

"Then, Jarl Ulfric..." Lydia suddenly spoke up, earning the looks of everyone else, "If that's the case, there's something I must know..." She took a small breath before continuing, "From all you claim there, about Helgen... Then... Did you have anything to do with the dragon itself attacking?" At once, Siffre's eyes widened, and her head snapped back over to Ulfric. Even Illia's eyes widened as well, though her reaction was much more slower in movement compared to the Dragonborn.

Jarl Ulfric on the other hand simply sat on his throne. He let out a slow exhale of breath on his own with closed eyes, before looking down again.

"Many a time I have been accused of such... such fantastical feats..." he said, "But no, that one I cannot claim credit for, in spite of its 'convenience' or coincidence. And... as much as it shames me to admit it... I owe begrudging respect to a dragon of all things. Were it not for its timely interference, lives would've been lost."

"But, lives were still lost!" Siffre suddenly exclaimed, surprising nearly everyone from the subtle vibrations that were felt through the air. Even the Jarl seemed to bristle to alertness, "What happened at Helgen... there was nothing good about it, at all! That is not something anyone should have happen to them! No one! Not... not Imperials, stormcloaks...!" She paused to take a breath in between her tirade. Lydia continued to stare at her in shock. This might be quite possibly the most she'd heard Siffre speak, both with raised volume above normal speaking, and for a lengthy amount of time. Such a far cry from the literal non-spoken person she had first seen in Whiterun a mere few days ago.

Jarl Ulfric nodded his head once as well, "Well said, Dragonborn. Spoken like a true daughter of Skyrim, despite not being a resident of my city."

"And now, I have the Thu'um, the Voice... a means of preventing anything like that from happening again..." Siffre continued, her tone lowered almost as if she were speaking to herself. She looked back up at the Jarl, "Which reminds me... You also have it, don't you?"

"Indeed I do," the man responded, "I suppose that makes you a fellow colleague. A practitioner of the Thu'um as well. The Greybeards taught you well, didn't they?" Siffre nodded, "Our homeland bleeds, while they instead turn their gazes to the sky... Masters of the Thu'um could greatly aid this land to prevent strife. At least I'd had the sense to recognize that during my time and study there."

'Grey... beards?' Illia thought to herself, 'Old wizards maybe...?'

"That was another thing..." Lydia spoke up again, "One of the Greybeards, Arngeir... he mentioned you. Except, I think he called you 'arrogant' or something."

"And let me guess, my 'hubris exceeded my judgement'?" Ulfric spoke.

"Erm, yes, I think," Lydia said.

"I am hardly surprised," the Jarl said, "Arngeir... Master, is no doubt wise beyond his years. I owe him much for all he's taught me... However, what he'd call my 'failure', is the will to take action. Skyrim cried out for heroes to take that action, and only people like me, armed with the knowledge the Thu'um granted, as well as a passionate and indomitable will, were willing to step forward. History will not recount favorably those who do nothing."

"But, was it not this same thing that... that the Nords had done at Red Mountain?" Siffre spoke up, "Arngeir said the Nords there used the Thu'um... but they were still defeated. Destroyed."

"An exaggeration," Ulfric replied rather quickly, "Though it is rare for Master to embellish like that, he had told me a similar thing. Never misunderstand: they failed their conquest during those days yes, but it was not at all due to their usage of the Thu'um, precisely." Ulfric's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed slightly before continuing, "The Voice is a tool, an extension of one's self. Thus, blame should not fall upon the tool when the user experiences failure. Once I realized this, and when the call for the Great War was announced thirty years ago, my cause was clear. I could not stand idly by."

'That's right, Jarl Ulfric fought in the Great War, as did Jarl Balgruuf...' Lydia thought to herself. She studied the brown-bearded man sitting upon the throne. Despite admitting to having fought in the War, some thirty years ago, the complexion on his face was far from that of an old man's. He looked to be slightly younger than Jarl Balgruuf Lydia considered. This man likely saw many horrible things during that time as well. Perhaps there was some respect to be found for the man for what he had experienced then.

That is, until Lydia recalled much more... recent events.

"They say... that you are a murderer," Lydia spoke again, "They say that you also murdered the High King with your Voice as well!" The reaction from the others looking towards her was not as dramatic as before, but the looks upon their faces held no less weight. In particular, Jarl Ulfric's eyes narrowed as he seemed to stare most intently at the housecarl.

"Indeed? I must say, you've been rather outspoken since you've come before me, housecarl of Balgruuf," he said, "And I imagine any nay-sayers or Imperial sympathizers would be quick to claim that. However, in respect of ancient Nord tradition, I had challenged Torygg. I challenged him to prove his right and his strength to rule; to put the needs of his country over the needs of servicing his queen. And... it is true, in a way, that I used the Voice. I used the very tool any Nord is capable of learning in a test of might and combat. It was a duel our ancestors, indeed the very Gods themselves, would deem favorable... And just as well, had also deemed me as the victor that day."

"So it is true... and what they say," Lydia said. She had never dreamed of meeting the High King of Skyrim, and even doubted that Balgruuf had ever met him either. Yet from his reputation alone, he was supposed to be a man nigh invincible. The ruler of a country... yet Jarl Ulfric had just verified that he was as vulnerable and mortal as any man?

And this man, the current Jarl of a different Hold than Whiterun, had just admitted to killing him? How? How could he just simply sit there on his throne and casually admit to something so... so horrible?!

"Make no mistake though, it was not the Thu'um itself that killed him," Ulfric said with a casual dismissive wave of his hand, "My blade, wielded by my own hand, ended him." There it was again, as if it bore repeating; the casual nature in how Ulfric admitted this. Lydia was vaguely aware of her taking a single step back, away from this... this... Could this man really be called a hero? One who speaks of murdering a king?

"Why..." she spoke, "And how... how could you possibly..."

"Um, I'm sorry but... what exactly is this 'High King' you speak of?" Illia's voice suddenly spoke up. Lydia felt the mounting tension lessen from this out of place question. And from Illia of all people, "Is he some important person to you Nords?"

"I fail to see what relevance our intra-provincial politics are to one not of our own. Especially an Imperial," he spoke directly to the mage. There was an edge to his voice, a complete change from how he had been speaking earlier. This all caused to Illia to wince as well. Ulfric on the other hand shook his head slightly before seemingly addressing the trio all at once, "But, suffice it to say... I did what I did to prove a point. The Empire and those who follow it are dying. They showed their true colors the day the Great War ended. Had they continued to have their way, they would drag Skyrim down with it through people like Torygg; hand-picked rulers by the Emperor himself. This is something I will no longer stand for! The Empire I once served is long gone! It abandoned us the moment it deemed it necessary to turn its back on Mighty Talos! The very Divine that had founded it in the first place!" Ulfric was beginning to sound more and more heated the more he carried on. Finally, he paused to calm himself and take deep breaths before continuing, "And just as well... I deemed it necessary to sever our link to it in a way that reminds every Nord of this country's roots. It's time we had a new High King, one of our own making, that will honor tradition, Nord values and beliefs, and not be swayed by coin or threat."

"And... you'd be willing to use the Voice, to do this... all of that?" Siffre spoke up. Ulfric paused to look back down upon the Dragonborn.

"That in itself is doubtful," he said, "For you see, I had not forgotten 'all' of what Master Arngeir said. How the Voice need only be used for the glory and worship of Kynareth? While I don't deny that I have swayed from his teachings, I still respect the passion Master and the Greybeards themselves had dedicated to the Way. I am mindful of its original intent, thus I rarely use it in 'blasphemy' as Arngeir would call it. Still, there are times where even I tend to make exceptions... The Way and the Nord in me are at constant war with each other... But you, Dragonborn. The rules don't very well apply to you now, do they?"

"No, they don't," Siffre replied.

"As the name suggests, to be born of the dragon blood," Ulfric gave a single, small nod, "I don't suppose I could convince you to join our cause? The Dragonborn herself lending aid to Skyrim's freedom would be quite... invaluable."

"No... No, I simply can't do it," Siffre said with a shake of her head, followed by returning the Jarl's stare with a look of her own, "I can't be a part of this war... It's just not my fight." There it is. That's what Lydia had been wanting to hear for all this time now. She had already felt uneasy at the prospect of her thane swearing allegiance to another Jarl, made only worse upon learning and hearing more of Jarl Ulfric from the mouth of the man himself. Whatever reasons Siffre said herself, it was still good to hear confirmation.

She glanced to the side at Siffre, as well as past her towards Illia as well. Illia, she'd almost forgotten about her. What was she to do exactly if Siffre had accepted? Ulfric and his people had made it clear how they feel about Imperials in general. Illia was already in a city of Nord nationalists, despite being in 'safe' company among herself and Siffre. Perhaps it was simply good that things had worked out the way they did. And from the look she could see on the mage's face, Illia appeared to be relieved as well.

"That is... rather unfortunate to hear," Ulfric shook his head a little, "But do not mistake my disappointment for ungratefulness; you still did preserve citizens of my Hold by slaying the dragon. That in itself earns you a place of respect."

"Hm, well, I was glad to help out in that way at least," Siffre said.

"Perhaps the Gods have need of you elsewhere; something that falls outside even my designs..." Ulfric said, "In that case, go with the Gods. Pursue the destiny that was meant for you alone, and fulfill it."

"So, we'll just be going then..." Siffre said. The Jarl himself made no comment to stop her, which was all the confirmation she needed. A turn around and with a gesture of her head towards the door at the other end, silently told Lydia and Illia to follow her. She also handed the coin-purse in her hand to her housecarl, who took it and secured it to her waist.

As Lydia herself began to follow both Siffre and Illia towards the door, Ulfric's voice could be heard one more time.

"Wait, housecarl Lydia... a quick word if you please?" Lydia almost hesitated, unsure if she had heard correctly. Before her, Siffre and Illia had halted in their tracks as they had surely heard the man speak. Their gazes were now fixed back, in the direction both back towards the Jarl, and her. She slowly turned around as well to find Ulfric looking towards her specifically, "Before you leave, I had hoped you could settle some curiosity of mine."

"Um, you wish to know something...?" she said. And moreover, he wished to know something from asking her of all people? "Erm, what is it, my lord?"

"I simply could not help but wonder... has the Jarl of Whiterun taken any stance on the war...?"

"The war?" Lydia questioned, "Why would you ask me that of all people?"

"You are, or were, 'his' housecarl, a servant in direct service to him," Ulfric replied plainly, "But also, because as fortune would have it, here you are, a traveler outside of your Hold. What better opportunity than now to inquire about this?" The man did have a point, but what was Lydia to say? Politicking such as that was never something she could ever have a firm handle on, even if she was never directly involved with them. From what she had experienced from Jarl Balgruuf however, it didn't sound like the man had officially cast his lot and support for either just yet. It wasn't like she had 'seen' any Imperial Legionnaires or Stormcloak soldiers within Whiterun's walls, especially as of recent. Perhaps in this case, honesty was the best policy...

"I think... Jarl Balgruuf is still undecided," Lydia finally admitted.

"Hm, a noble sentiment; as stout and hardy as I remember him," Ulfric said, "Yet even he must realize that such principles cannot last forever. Indecisions tend to be even more costly than losses..." The Jarl was silent for a handful of seconds, which told Lydia that he had nothing more to say. There was greater distance between the two by now, which kept the woman from seeing the Jarl's face in clearer detail. Yet despite that, Lydia could've sworn she saw a shimmer; a very tiny twinkle in one of the man's eyes. Her own eyes stayed glued to him, as if trying to confirm what she was certain she'd seen...

She suddenly shook her head hard. It was nothing, nothing at all, it had to be. With that, she rejoined Siffre and Illia on the way to the palace's doors. The two had been waiting expectedly for her. The mage could be seen anxiously swaying from one side, shifting weight from one foot to the other. Siffre also stood there waiting for her, while the expression on her face turned to one of mild concern upon seeing Lydia's own.

"Lydia...?" Siffre said.

"It's... let's just go." The Dragonborn glanced once at the mage and gave a shrug. They each passed by the two guards posted at each end of the doors, then pushed their way through them, leaving the warmth of the interior to meet the harsh cold of the outside once more.


-You know, this was actually one of the things that this story had been building up to, at least for me. The Dragonborn actually conversing with the only other mortal in Skyrim that is known to use the Thu'um. I'd always thought that idea should've been expanded upon deeper in the game, especially if your character had taken 'a' side in the Civil War. What would Ulfric say in regards to that, to someone else who can use the Thu'um like he can? Ah well, I hope I was able to satisfy with what I came up with for this encounter; I myself thought it turned out good!

As always, read, review, follow, favorite, and I'll see you all real soon! Keep on reading!-