Chapter Eighteen- The Final Battlefield
It wasn't an hour past dawn, but already the square was full of people. Tullius hadn't kept the news of my execution a secret. People of all sorts were gathered before the stage: merchants, beggars, housewives, soldiers. They all wanted to see the spectacle. I couldn't blame them; the death of one of their most hated enemies was far more exciting than dreary day-to-day life.
From the tunnel that led to the stage, I could see Tullius, Rikke and Elenwen already positioned. Between them was a large stone. Even from my distance I could see the blood splatters from previous executions that they hadn't cared to wash away. It put a knot in my stomach. I realized this was where I was to die: in a country not my own, in a city of my enemy, my death being praised by a people who didn't know my story. I had tried to reason within myself that I was okay with such an ending, but I had yet to accept it. In all honesty, I was terrified.
I couldn't hear Tullius' charges against me over the sound of the crowd, but the headsman and city guard commander seemed to hear just fine. They wasted no time in dragging me from the shadows to stand in the light of the last sunrise I would ever see. The crowd seemed to grow louder as they finally saw me. Their taunts and disgusted comments physically pained me to hear. I tried desperately to slow my labored breathing, but there was no getting around the anxiety. My life was moments away from ending and I was powerless to stop it.
“Talia Maro, you're sentenced to death by the Emperor himself, the one you swore to protect!” Tullius reminded me, as if I had forgotten the gravity of what I had done. “You're a traitor to your own country and to Skyrim for aiding the rebel Stormcloaks! We put an end to your treason this day!”
I wasn't given the chance to explain myself over the eruption of cheers from the misled crowd, but I expected as much from the man. He wouldn't allow them to hear my story. If they did, it would cause too much of a commotion, perhaps even a riot. Instead, he motioned to the commander to lower me to the chopping block.
I opened my mouth to try to speak, but the rough hand of the man force me to silence as he positioned me into place. As my knees hit the stone, my heart beat grew louder and louder in my ears until that was the only sound I could hear. The world seemed to slow in my panic. The crowd became a faceless mob crying out for blood. Tullius looked on with a pleased smile, mumbling something to Elenwen beside him. The only one who didn't seem happy with my death was Rikke. I could still see the regret in her eyes and hear her tell me, “I wish things were different...”
In the chaos of my mind, I had to force my eyes shut to even feel a whisper of calm. I felt my body shaking violently against the cold, dew-covered stone. I was left to wonder if this was how Gaius felt in his last moments of life. Was he afraid of the inevitable? Did he feel betrayed and alone? And my uncle... He was gone and I hadn't even the chance to mourn him. It was my fault... Everything was my fault.
The last thing I had done to them was leave. I abandoned them both in their time of need. They were alone in death, just like I found myself in that moment. I could have been there to stop both of their deaths, and perhaps they could have still been here to stop mine. I truly was a traitor. Until that moment, I thought was helping people, but I ended up leaving the ones who needed me most in the wake. As Tullius said, I deserved my fate.
“I'm sorry!” I prayed in silence, hoping that wherever they were, they could hear my cries. “I've done everything wrong. I shouldn't have left you. I just wanted to do what was right, but this feels so wrong.” I could feel the icy tears sliding down my cheeks, burning them in the chilly air. “Please forgive me... Please give me peace. I'm lost...”
As my prayer ended, I lingered on the word I spoke in pain: lost. It's how I felt, but it wasn't a feeling that I had never felt before. When my family was slaughtered in Anvil, I felt lost. When I first met the battered king in Helgen, I felt lost. As I traveled Skyrim's lands to see the afflictions that my Empire allowed, I once again felt lost. I needed guidance and direction, but each time, I found it within myself.
That “guidance and direction” led me to where I needed to be: to my Uncle, then to Ulfric, and finally to the death before me. Each time I was afraid, but everything worked out when I gave up my fear to do what I knew I needed to do. That was something both Gaius and Uncle Oritius always complimented me on, even if it landed me in trouble more often than not. When I thought about it like that, I couldn't help but feel like they weren't angry at me at all. As much anger and hatred I harbored for myself because of it, there was a part of me that made me believe they were actually proud. If things were different, I know Gaius would have joined me. Together, we would have convinced Uncle Oritius to do something. They were just too afraid of the unknown to act. Fear drove people to abandon what was right to do what was safe. They wouldn't be angry; they would be proud that I wasn't afraid.
I breathed deeply at the sudden peace that rushed over my body. I had done all I could do, so there was nothing to fear. The lives that had been lost- Drablek, Serlyn, Uncle Oritius, Gaius, and then my own- would not be in vain. We fought for what we thought was right and did the most good. The crowds grew louder as the headsman picked up his axe. I kept my eyes closed and said one last prayer to the Divines thanking them for their guidance. With my new peace, I simply relaxed and forced myself to think about the good. I wouldn't allow them to revel in my fear of the end.
“Well, this looks familiar.” The calm voice was distinct enough to silence the chants of the crowd. I felt my breath hitch as my eyes lifted from the stone ground to look upon the young Nord approaching me. “An unfair execution behind city walls for only the empire's puppets to see... Reminiscent of Helgen, eh Tullius?” The general snarled at the boy as he made his way to the front of the stage. The people cleared a path for him, moved by his aura of power and arrogance. “All you're missing now is the dragon.”
“Who do you think you are?” the Imperial demanded. The question made it painfully clear how out of touch Tullius truly was.
I could only smile as he smirked in response. “Where are my manners? You may call me Favnir Silver-Tongue, or Dragonborn, or perhaps Dovahkiin.” At the word the ground itself seemed to quake.
Rikke looked terrified as she recognized the Nord, but Tullius and Elenwen still gave him a stone cold glare. She tried to warn her superior, but the Imperial was blind to her attempt as he ordered his guards, “Arrest him. He's disrupting the peace and showing support for the rebellion.”
The elf cut in, “If he holds to this Dragonborn nonsense I'm sure he's a worshiper of Talos as well. Don't arrest him; kill him!”
“A worshiper of Talos?” Favnir chuckled softly, ignoring the guards who reluctantly drew their weapons and weaved through the crowd towards him. I could see the mischief in his eyes as the Nord looked between the two mockers on the stage. “I am Ysmir now. I am Talos.” His grinned widened as he saw the color drain from the elf's face. “Now, I'm going to ask politely for you to let my friend go. I think she's had enough of your company.”
The feeling of relief was short lived as I felt Elenwen kick me in the back, her foot pinning me against the chopping block. “Kill them both! Now!” she shouted, her voice soaked in desperation. She had never encountered someone who openly defied her, let alone claimed to be the god she hunted. She was afraid and needed to put an end to what she couldn't control.
In response, Favnir almost seem to revel in that victory. When he realized his words alone wouldn't put an end to the confrontation, he didn't seem disappointed at all. “Well, that was your chance to surrender," he taunted, turning his head to the skies above. "Odahviing!” The shout shook the air, causing everyone on the stage to lose their balance. As they shifted, I rolled from beneath the elf's foot. I half expected her to try and grab me again, but the shout was enough to send her running in fear. She abandoned the stage, ducking into the tunnel that lead her to safety.
Tullius on the other hand, looked in shock as the echo of the shout still lingered in the air. “What did you do?!” he demanded, his eyes full of fear and fury.
The Dragonborn refused to answer immediately, letting a thunderous roar and heavy wing beats speak for him. I recognized the sound, but found comfort when I should have felt panic. Favnir chuckled and stared the general down. “I called the dragon, of course.” At his words, the giant red beast breached the city walls. His speed and low altitude forced a heavy wind to blow across the courtyard. As the dragon roared again, all of the remaining townsmen began running away in a panic.
The guards immediately went into action to get the bystanders to safety, completely ignoring Tullius' commands to kill Favnir. The General watched in annoyance as the headsman and commander of the guard ran from the stage as well, the crowd of innocents taking a priority over his cries for bloodshed. His hatred filled gaze had no one else to linger on except for me as we found ourselves alone on the stage. With a snarl he drew his weapon, descending on me as I tried to get to my feet.
“Wuld Nah Kest!” Favnir shouted, appearring before me no sooner had the words left his lips. He spared my life by just a few inches, his conjured sword blocking the man's furious slash. The impact caused the Imperial to stagger backwards. He gasped for breath as he tried to understand how the Nord could have moved in the way so quickly. The wizard didn't offer to give up his secrets however. “Is her death really worth that of your city's?” Favnir scoffed, pointing his sword towards the general. “I didn't come here alone.”
As Tullius tried to comprehend what he was saying, there was a distant blast of a war horn. The color in his face drained as a soldier cried from the watchtower, “Stormcloak Soldiers have taken the lower tower! They're advancing on the city!”
Favnir smirked as Tullius looked back at Rikke. In a desperate demand he cried, “Ready the troops now!” The woman darted towards the barracks, but Tullius hesitated. He stared at us a long time, clearly debating if he should try his luck fighting the much younger Nord. Finally, he growled in frustration and ran after Rikke, his head hanging in shame.
The Nord turned to face me, his smirk softening to a kind smile. “Looks like I got here just in time.” As I nodded, he walked behind me, kneeling and cutting loose my binds.
As the leather went slack, I pulled my hands to the front, rubbing my sore and bloodied wrists. I looked up him, overwhelmed with gratefulness. “Thank you, Favnir. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
The boy simply shook his head. “You don't owe me anything. Besides, I can't take all the credit for this rescue. Jarl Ulfric and Galmar planned the attack as soon as they heard you got taken.”
“Ulfric and Galmar?” I asked, my voice soft and shaking at the realization. The fact that the Stormcloaks planned an attack at the time of my execution couldn't have been coincidental. Whether Ulfric still cared or saw the event as a good time to strike was up for debate. Still, I couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through my limbs.
Before he could answer me, the giant dragon dove towards us, perching himself on the stone wall. The old stones shifted, sounding as if they were ready to give out at any moment, yet the beast stayed put, his gaze resting on the two of us. “Niraat bo, Dovahkiin. What is your command?”
Favnir glanced over at me, chuckling as he saw my expression. “Talia, this is Odahviing, a friend of mine and the second greatest dragon I know.”
The beast snarled at his obvious taunt, showing off his sharp, dagger-like teeth. “Dein vun jaaril.” As Favnir chuckled, he put his attention on me, “A good battle to you, Talia.”
“It's nice to meet you, Odahviing,” I responded, clear awe in my voice.
The Nord hummed in amusement, “I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a similar reaction, but we'll have time for the two of you to meet properly later.” He looked towards the watchtower across the courtyard as troops began funneling themselves out the door and towards the three of us. “Odahviing, take out the gate to let the Stormcloaks in. After that's down, have some fun with these Imperials. Just don't hurt anyone who isn't a soldier, got it?”
The dragon made a noise that resembled a chuckle. He spread his wings, roaring as he took off once again, “Zok brit uth! The mortals are no match for a dovah!” Each beat of his wings swirled dirt around us, but Favnir was unmoved. He simply watched his ally take to the skies.
I had to pull him from his thoughts as the fresh-from-the-barrack soldiers took notice of us. “We have company,” I muttered, pointing in the direction of one of the battlemages. The large Imperial donned a mix of armor and robes and had his eyes locked on the Nord wizard in front of me. He charged a flame spell in his hand as his fellow footmen rushed towards us.
Favnir glanced at me, his eyes scanning my unarmored body and unarmed hands. “Stay behind me!” He commanded, using his free hand to pull the ebony hood over his dark brown hair.
The first soldier to meet the Nord's blade gravely misjudged the prowess of the boy. His halfhearted hit was easily blocked and retaliated, but Favnir had no intention of holding back. The burning purple blade tore through the Legionnaire's armor, as if he wore none at all. He cried out once, collapsing to the ground before being trampled on by the next soldier.
We were backed into the corner of the stage as Favnir tried to fend off two more troops. I could distantly hear the shouts of the Legion as they rallied in the courtyard outside of Castle Dour. There were far too many for even the Dragonborn to hold off for much longer. The Stormcloaks weren't far behind, but I was well aware of how quickly death takes hold.
My eyes shifted towards the edge of the stage as a third soldier approached. Beyond him, the battlemage looked on with a sick smile. I realized he wasn't avoiding the fight, but waiting for the perfect moment. I didn't doubt Favnir could hold the men off, but I didn't want him to have to do it alone. When one of the soldiers raised his arm, I had just enough room to dive past him. I scrambled towards his fallen companion, grabbing the sword from beside him. I raised it just in time to deflect a strong blow. The collision of our blades staggered him backwards, but nearly knocked the sword from my hands. In the moments it took him to recover, I forced myself to my feet.
Completely unarmored and weakened from my imprisonment, I was a much easier target than the Nord. I could see his eyes scanning me as he flipped the blade over in his palm. I panted from fatigue and the slight panic that coursed through my veins. “This hardly seems fair,” he grumbled, a touch of sympathy in his tone.
“You're right,” I responded, refusing to lower my blade. “If you surrender, I'll let you live.”
The man chuckled, caught off guard by cocky reply. “Aye, perhaps you are a Stormcloak.” He glanced behind him to see Favnir had already downed another of his companions. “We all die this day. Perhaps Sovngarde will welcome you as one of its own.” With a nod, the Nord charged at me. His blade colliding with mine once again. I planted my feet, but still slid back slightly from the force.
Through his attacks, I was never able to get an offensive hit. I was being far too protective of myself. Normally my armor would give the confidence to get in closer. Without it, I knew I was a mere hit away from the end. I just hoped he would tire himself out before I was unable to hold the blade anymore.
A sudden yelp behind the man caught our attention. He glanced over his shoulder, and I took the only opportunity I had to strike him. I lunged forward, shoving the blade into the soft bends of his stomach armor. The Legionnaire tensed, a soft gasp leaving his lips as I pulled the sword from his body. He dropped his blade, quickly covering his wound as he fell to his knees. I watched him with that same knot of guilt returning to my stomach. Killing someone would never get easier.
“Look out!” The shout pulled me from my distracted state. I flinched when Favnir shoved me behind him, casting a spell in his free hand just as I became aware of a soft hissing. I covered my ears at the deafening sound of his ward blocking a fireball. The battlemage readied another spell in his hand, a grin on his face. Favnir showed no signs of lowering the ward, but he looked equally as smug as our attacker. “Wards up, mage!”
The older man sneered at him confidently. “I don't fear you, whelp. Your magic is no match for my own!”
“It isn't my magic you should fear,” the Nord chuckled, tilting his head towards the sky.
I followed his gaze to see a massive blur of red descending upon us. Odahviing dove quickly towards the gate, the only thing blocking his path being the solitary wizard. “Ken dii zul, joor!” he roared, opening his jaws to release flames that dwarfed those of the battlemage. The old man screamed as he became engulfed in the inferno, but his cries were drowned out by those of the beast. Odahviing bellowed as he collided with the gate. He pulled up at the last second, letting his legs and tail smash into the wood and stone. Debris shot in all directions, but I found myself safe behind the Dragonborn's ward. When the dust settled, we found a massive hole where the gate and wall had been.
Rather than cheer, Favnir seemed panicked. He ran towards the opening, crawling through the rubble to get to the other side. I followed closely as he ran to the panting red beast that rested on the other side. “You idiot!” he cried, making his way to the dragon's head. “You could have died! Are you hurt? What did you break?”
Odahviing lifted his head to grumble, “Luvmah, Dovahkiin? You care about me?” The chuckling noise left his throat again. “Drem. Zu'u los. I will be fine. The Dov do not have the soft hides of you mortals. I will take much more to break.” He lowered his head as Favnir shakily reached out his hand to touch the great dragon's cheek. “I would like to see the Old One do that.”
Favnir pouted. “You tried to kill yourself to prove you're better than Paarthurnax?”
“Zu'u fen kos.” The dragon replied simply, resting his head on the ground. Favnir laughed lightly, immediately going to work healing what he could on the beast. It caught me off guard to see how much he cared for the dragon. From what I knew, dragons were evil creatures, yet he had seemed to win over Odahviing's loyalty in one way or another. I hadn't the slightest idea if the dragon felt the same way about the Nord, but he certainly didn't seem to mind the attention.
“Talia?” the soft feminine voice, caught my attention. Among the army of Stormcloaks that made it to the crumpled gate, my eyes landed on Kaita. I couldn't stop the tears that blinded my vision as I dropped my bloodied blade and ran to her. I was pleasantly surprised when she met me halfway. “By the Nine, I thought you were dead!” She told me, her voice a mix of pain and relief.
“I thought you were dead!” I told her, my tone unintentionally matching hers. “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Kaita! You shouldn't have gotten hurt; I shouldn't have left.” I hugged her tightly, part of me afraid to let her go. There was so much guilt and regret weighing on my chest. I knew there was nothing I could do to change anything, but I felt like I needed to try.
The Nord was silent for a long time, simply holding me tightly. Eventually she responded, “What did I tell you about whining?” When I pulled away, she was smiling as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “You're alive and that's all that matters... I... I thought I lost my best friend and I didn't even get to say goodbye. But you're here now. We can make it up to each other by watching each other's backs. We're Shield-Sisters, right?”
I smiled at her, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Right.” I whispered in response, offering my hand to her. She took my arm in the Nordic greeting, a confident smile returning to her face. “We'll fight together, for hopefully the last time.”
“Aye,” she purred. “But not just the two of us.” She looked behind her, past the rows of marching soldiers that headed towards the gate. I followed her gaze to see the General and the Jarl making their way towards us. They both stopped, looking equally as dumbfounded when they saw me standing beside Kaita. The woman giggled quietly when she watched my expression falter. “You didn't expect them to come to the final battle for Skyrim?”
“I... I did,” I responded, struggling for words. “I... We didn't... He'll kill me. He said he would.”
Kaita started walking towards them, patting the sword on her back. “Let him try,” she taunted, smirking a bit. “He won't though. He looks like he's seen a ghost.” With reluctance, I followed after her. I tried to keep my breathing calm and collected, but if I was honest with myself I was even more nervous than the first time I was in Windhelm. After all we had been through, I felt as though none of it mattered. I was an enemy once again, so nothing was a guarantee.
When we were a closer distance, I stopped and saluted. I shut my eyes to avoid looking at what I knew would be angry expressions. I didn't plan on speaking, but as the dreaded silence fell between the four of us, I couldn't help the pathetic noise that left my lips. “I'm sorry.” The silence remained. “I... I'm sorry I went against your orders. I'm ready to accept whatever fate you have for me.”
Galmar's raspy scoff was my reply. I kept my eyes squeezed shut as I heard the two of them closing the gap. Without any other warning I was pulled forward, wrapped tightly in Ulfric's arms. The man was trembling, unrecognizable to the eye but ever so apparent as I was held against his chest. I couldn't help but wrap my arms around him as well. “You're alright,” the man whispered, more as a reassurance to himself than to me. “Did they hurt you? Do you need a healer?”
I shook my head, hiding my face in his armor. “No, I'm... I'm fine...” I responded, my voice unable to go above a whisper. “Why?” was all I could ask. I didn't understand why he could forgive me so easily. I didn't know why I wasn't dead already. I did however enjoy the feeling as the dread I had about seeing him again was washed away by overwhelming joy.
“I shouldn't have said any thing like that to you,” the Jarl told me in response to the vague question. “I'm so sorry, Talia.”
“You don't have to-”
“It took him all of an hour to calm down,” Galmar cut me off, “and about 10 minutes after that to realize what he'd done. In all my years of knowing him, Ulfric has apologized a handful of times. I'd savor the moment.” I looked towards him to see a slight smile on his face. He put his hand on my shoulder, continuing, “I just started to like you, Imperial. Did you think we'd let you go that easily?”
I didn't have words to say, so I let the faintest joy-filled laugh leave my lips. I turned my teary eyes back towards Ulfric to see his gaze matched mine. He gently kissed my forehead, murmuring as he pulled away, “I can't make any excuses, but I'll try to make it up to you when this is over.”
I shook my head. “You've done more than enough being here.”
Galmar grumbled with a wide grin, “That's enough of the mushy stuff. You two can 'make up' later.” The Nord chuckled deeply, patting his friend on the back. “We still have a city to take and I think we've given the Legion plenty of time to ready themselves.”
“Aye,” Ulfric responded, staring down at me and kissing my forehead once again. As he reluctantly pulled away from me, he stated, “We've secured the stables down the hill. Go there and rest up. I'll come get you when this is over.”
“You don't want me to fight?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.
“You've done more than your share for us,” he told me, a sad smile hinting on his lips. “I won't ask you to continue.”
I shook my head, staring him in the eyes. I spoke more certainly than I had for a long time, “I want to end this with you. This is what I signed up for, so I'm going to follow it through to the end.” I looked over at Galmar and Kaita. The woman grinned at me, proud of my confidence and decision. She wanted one last fight together as well.
The hazel-eyed Nord stared down at me, his options clearly running through his mind. I knew he didn't want me getting hurt again, and with as weak as I was, I was pushing my luck. Still, he knew how desperately I wanted to continue. I had to know for myself what I was doing was right. I had to end this war. He drew a deep breath as he looked at Kaita. “Get her some armor and weapons and meet us at the gate. Hurry. I don't think Tullius is going to give us much more time.”
I smiled brightly but didn't linger any longer. While he and Galmar rushed to the front lines, Kaita and I hurried to one of the supply wagons at the rear. Within moments she had sorted through the crates and produced a full Stormcloak uniform, a sword, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I slipped into the armor, lacing up the bracers and boots with speed that came from months of practice. I placed the sword to my side and tossed the bow and quiver over my shoulders.
My attire felt incomplete without Krosis. I had grown accustom to that strange mask. It was a form of defense that I thought I would need forever. It hid my face from the world so that they wouldn't know what deeds I committed. No one would know I was the one who killed so many of my kin for a home that wasn't my own. No one could tell that I, a sworn defender of the Emperor, had turned my back on him and become the biggest of traitors. At that moment, however, it was pointless to hold onto Krosis any longer. Everyone knew who I was and what I had done. The mask had no use anymore. I don't know where it had gone, but I had no plan in finding it again.
Kaita and I ran up the hill, sliding past the multitude of soldiers as they awaited their orders. Galmar and Ulfric were standing atop the rubble that was once the city gate. The Jarl was giving a speech to his soldiers to raise their spirits, but I was distracted by Favnir and Odahviing. The young Nord had gotten the dragon back to his feet but was still busy making sure the beast wasn't seriously injured. I noticed Kaita was staring just as intensely as I was. “That's Odahviing,” I whispered.
“He's on our side?” Kaita responded, her voice reflecting the awe of her expression. “It's a bad day to be a Legionnaire.”
I giggled softly. “That it is.”
The sound of an Imperial war horn cut Ulfric's speech short. The man looked over his shoulder towards the castle, scowling as the echoes of the horn werefollowed by the thunderous marching of feet. He called out above his anxious army, “Finally, we take back our homes! We will see victory this day, here or in Sovngarde! Talos Preserve Us!”
The army erupted in shouts and war cries, charging in past their superiors to meet their fate upon the final battlefield. Kaita and I rushed ahead with them, bows in hand and arrows at their ready. The two men waited for us before joining the sea of blue and silver that took over the city. Ulfric and Galmar would no doubt be the biggest targets for the Legion, so I was dead-set to keep my eyes on them.
The Legionnaires didn't make us wander far to find them. We had barely made it to the first shop in the town before we clashed with my kin. The sound of metal on metal mixed with the cries and screams of war was almost deafening. It was impossible to not be distracted by the violence surrounding me. I made my eyes scan every possible hiding spot, taking out the men at range and letting Ulfric attack those who got too close. Favnir joined the fight as well, taking out soldiers on the ground as he let his winged ally rest.
A soft thud of an arrow on the ground beside me snapped my attention to the ramp and upper levels of the town. The fastest way to Castle Dour was taking that ramp, but it had been blocked by several makeshift barriers. Further, the upper level was swarming with archers. The Imperials were taking out our soldiers easily, as they were too distracted with the ground troops to even look up. “Kaita!” I called above the noise, catching her attention after she loosed an arrow.
I directed her gaze to the ramp. The woman swore under her breath before shouting, “Archers! Take out the upper level!” Her orders caught the attention of several troops around us. They immediately took aim, firing volleys of arrows into their rivals. I managed to take three out on my own, but it seemed as though for ever man who fell, two took their place.
“This isn't working,” I called above the noise. I reached into my quiver, quickly counting the arrows on my back before nocking another one. “We're going to run out of arrows and men before they do!”
“We need to get up there,” Ulfric grumbled, looking around the carnage. His eyes rested on Galmar as the man swung his warhammer into the chest of a heavy armored soldier. “Galmar! On me! We're going to find another way around!”
“Aye!” the older man called, gripping the hammer as he sprinted towards us. “Snow-Hare!” Kaita looked towards him. “Think you can keep them busy to buy us some time?”
The fiery-haired woman grinned at him. “Of course!” As she nocked back another arrow, she smiled sweetly at me. “Go with them. I've got it from here.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, hesitantly lowering my bow. With her nod, I put the bow back over my shoulders and drew my blade. “We won't keep you waiting long.”
She scoffed, “You better not,” she teased me. “Talos guide you!”
With her dismissal, I darted through the crowd, trying to catch up with Ulfric and Galmar. The two had managed to make it past the second wall of the town, but it seemed there was just as much fighting there as there was on Kaita's side. Galmar was squaring off with another heavy armored fighter, leaving Ulfric to take two on his own.
I immediately rushed to aid him, ducking under a swing of a greatsword and sliding across the stone ground to cut at the tender backs of one of the Legionnaire's knees. She shrieked in pain as she collapsed, but a sword through her chest quickly put her out of her misery.
Her companion was caught off guard by my sudden attack, but didn't give me much time to attack. I lunged to my feet, trying to drive the sword into him, but the man step-sided. A quick slice of his blade cut through my armor. The gash was mostly superficial, but it still caused me to hiss in pain. He was ready for another hit, but Ulfric's sword swept him off his feet. The Jarl gave him no time to recover, slitting his throat before he could even rise again.
I panted, nodding at him in thanks. He gave me his charming half-smile as he asked, “Are you always this reckless? It's a miracle you're still alive.”
I scrunched my nose at his tease, retorting, “Being reckless has gotten me this far.” I looked past him as Galmar sauntered over, nearly out of breath.
“As much as I miss the heat of battle,” he panted, “we need to find Tullius. We will run out of men before they do in this city.”
I nodded and scanned the area for the familiar gray-haired man. I frowned. “I don't see him or Rikke. They aren't out here with their troops?”
Galmar growled, “Sounds like the coward. He's probably holed up in the Castle somewhere.”
“I know a way in,” I told them, staring up the hill. As I started walking, I locked eyes with a fully armored Legionnaire. He glistened in the mid-morning sun, a full body shield in his left hand and a spear in his right. I felt my breath hitch as he was joined by four more equally fatal soldiers. They blocked the entrance to Castle Dour courtyard, and by default, Tullius himself.
Ulfric's gaze followed mine and I heard him scoff. “Past them, I take it.”
With my nod, Galmar chuckled. “What are we waiting for then?” He started up the hill, Ulfric and I right on his heels. The soldiers braced themselves, hiding behind their shields and holding the spears out front. For a moment, it looked as though Galmar would charge right through. At the last second however, he slowed, swinging his giant hammer across the line of them. The Nordic quality steel collided with four of the five spears, making them look like twigs as they simply snapped and splintered in half. We took their shock to our advantage and Ulfric and I immediately engaged.
I ended up facing the soldier who still held his spear. I was unsure whether or not the Nords had ever faced a spearman in battle, so I was thankful for my training as a Penitus Oculatus. Much smaller, much lighter armed, I was not much of a match against him attacking head on. Instead, I toyed with him, waiting for him to make a mistake. From the corner of my eye I could see the Nords were on much more even ground against their targets, who had to resort to swordplay.
I held my sword at the ready, knocking the spear to the side or stepping away with every jab he threw at me. With his full shield, I knew I would waste my time trying to slice at him. Instead, I would have to disarm him. I waited for another stab at me, quickly stepping to the side and grabbing the spear with my freehand. I tried to pull it from his grasp, but a bit too forcefully. As I did so, the spear slipped from his hand, but he came barreling towards me. The Imperial slammed into me with the shield, knocking me back onto the hard stone.
I could smell and taste blood from the impact and my eyes watered uncontrollably. Through my blurry vision, I could see the shining Imperial get back to his feet and kick my sword away. As he picked up his spear again, his gaze fell upon me. I struggled to find anything to defend myself. I felt the broken spearhead beside me, quickly fumbling for it and throwing it into the only unarmored portion of his body: his face.
The man screamed in pain as the broken spear buried itself in his eye. I hastily pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the throbbing feeling in my head as I forced the spear from his hand and into this throat. I couldn't force myself to stay as he gasped and gurgled. Instead, I tried to wipe the involuntary tears from my eyes as I picked up my sword.
Galmar and Ulfric had each downed one of the other men and fumbled with the last ones. I shifted my gaze to the other side of the courtyard where soldiers had finally taken notice that we had breached the upper level. I sheathed the blade as they rushed to meet us, taking aim with my bow once more. As quickly as I was able, I fired shots into the advancers, nailing nearly every one.
I heard Galmar shout as he swung his warhammer. There was a satisfying crush upon impact, his rage driven power breaking the breastplate of the man. He didn't have time to react. The Imperial simply slid with the collision, falling backwards down the hill and laying lifelessly in a bloodied heap.
The older Nord turned to help Ulfric, but the Jarl had already won the fight. A forceful hit to his knee didn't break the soldier's armor, but it did force him to fall. Under the weight of the steel, he was far to slow to rise. Another swing of Ulfric's sword severed his head, a swift but painless death.
I panted as I finished off the last of the guards who had noticed us, looking at the Nords. “Through the door.”
Ulfric frowned as he looked me over. “You were hit.” My hand hesitantly wiped the blood from my bleeding nose and lips. “Stay here. We'll finish this,” he told me in a slightly commanding voice. I knew he was looking out for me, but I wasn't willing to back down just yet.
“I'll be fine, Ulfric,” I told him, giving a reassuring nod. “I can do this. Let me help you.”
I could see the conflict behind his clouded eyes and he glanced at Galmar as if silently asking for his thoughts. He chuckled darkly, “She sounds more and more like a Nord. This is her fight as well. We started it together, let us finish it together.”
I smiled at him, thankful for his input. To an outsider, it would seem impossible that those many months ago we were the furthest from friends. Galmar's trust was one of the most valuable things I possessed, however; I was thankful for it. “Aye,” Ulfric said, giving us both a faint smile. “Let's end this then.”
I hurried with them to the unguarded door before any more troops found us. I was ready for a fight the moment I turned the handle, yet I was met with a much different sight. The front hall was entirely empty. The old man -whether confident, arrogant, or desperate- sent all his men to the field, leaving himself completely vulnerable. I could see just two faint figures at the far end of the hall. Rikke's voice echoed in the emptiness, “You're really going to do nothing?!” I glanced at Ulfric to see his usually stoic expression falter.
We kept our weapons drawn as we advanced, making no effort to hide ourselves but curious to listen in on their words. Tullius muttered softly, “We have no chance against their army. They took us by surprised. We've lost already.”
“We've come all this way- you've sent all these men to die- to simply give up?!” Rikke cried, anger in her voice radiating off the walls. When Tullius didn't respond she snarled, “Lay and wait for them then! I want to die amongst my people.” She turned toward us, drawing her sword as she suddenly became aware of our presence. “Stop!” She commanded us, as if her voice alone could prevent the inevitable. Oddly enough, it managed to stop the Jarl in his tracks.
I could see the regret behind his eyes. I knew he still cared about her. It stung, but only because I could see how much he was hurting. Swords in both of their hands, two once-loves now standing on opposite sides of the battlefield. After taking a moment to process what he was about to do, he muttered, “Stand down, Rikke.”
The Nord woman held him in her icy gaze, refusing to move an at all. “Stand down? And what? Let you slaughter Skyrim's only hope? We need the Empire! We've lost so many lives keeping it together and now you're running a pointless war to tear it apart!”
“The Empire is dead,” Galmar retorted, stepping closer to her. Regardless of his more proactive approach, he too was holding back. His body was less rigid. His tone was a touch softer. He spoke as if trying to coax what was left of their old friend back to the surface. “You were with us when they let the elves win. You were angry. All our brothers and sisters slain for nothing!”
The woman trembled in anger, her eyes watering. “You're all fools! We can't defeat the Thalmor. We barely survived them once. You're damning all of Skyrim by doing this! You've made us weak; you've made the empire weak! No one wins from this but them!”
“We can, Rikke.” Ulfric finally responded, lowering his weapon slightly. “You're doing this out of fear. You're scared of what they can do, but you've forgotten what we can. We will defeat them. We will drive them out of Skyrim, then all of the Empire. But we'll do it on our terms, not theirs. We will be Nords again.”
The woman laughed, shaking her head. “You're even more delusional than I remember. You don't care about Skyrim. You care about yourself. You're letting brothers and sisters tear each other apart outside that door for some fantasy.”
“You're blind,” I found myself saying, catching her attention. “You're just as blind as I was, Rikke. They are the ones killing your kin. They torture and beat and slaughter innocent people, not just soldiers, because it's fun. You're refusing to see the afflictions right in front of you because you're so afraid of what you don't know. So was I. I gave up everything for this. I gave up my home, I've lost my family, I have nothing... Maybe we can't defeat the Thalmor, but I would rather die fighting for the right thing than continue living under a false banner.”
The woman shook her head, “He's brainwashed you... Just like everyone else. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. He never has.”
“He loves you,” I told her in a pleading tone. I hesitantly held out my free hand to her. “Stand down. Can't you see they don't want to hurt you?”
Rikke looked as though she was seriously considering her options. She looked away from me towards Ulfric and then Tullius. The Imperial simply remained seated, seeming to be equally interested in her decision. Galmar grumbled, “The longer you wait to move, woman, the more men die outside these walls.”
She growled deeply, “Move me then.”
Ulfric swore loudly. “Get out of the way, Rikke! We don't need you, just him!”
“Then you can have him over my dead body!" she shouted, snarling as she raised her blade. "He may have given up, but I have not. If I have to be the only thing stopping you from the throne, so be it!”
Galmar drew a deep breath and looked towards Ulfric for his silent orders. The Jarl nodded slowly. “If that is what you wish,” he started, his tone heavy in regret, “Talos Preserve You.”
Galmar had only stepped forward once before the woman was on him. In a flurry of hits and slashes, she managed to keep him from getting a full swing with the hammer. All of her anger- at herself, at Tullius, at the men in front of her- was channeled into her attacks. There would be no more talking. The only thing that could sate her would be bloodshed.
Ulfric and I started to engage her until movement caught our eye. The General finally got to his feet, likely spurred on my the humiliating reality that he was willing to let a single woman fight his battles for him. He charged towards Ulfric and me, his sword colliding with the Jarl's with a resounding clank. Despite the two-on-one disadvantage, the old man held his own. He was a decent fighter, as one would expect from a General. I reasoned if he actually had risked his life every once in awhile, the battles leading up to Solitude would have been different.
I had never had the chance to properly fight with Ulfric, yet we coordinated as if we had trained for years. He lunged towards Tullius; the man blocked the attack by was too late to deflect my own blade on his thigh. I ducked under the Jarl's blade as he blocked a retaliating strike for me. It was a unrehearsed dance between us, something I didn't have the chance to admire at the time.
We continued to wear Tullius down until an unexpected yelp left Galmar's lips. Skilled as he was, the second-in-command was no match for the raging woman with whom he quarreled. She managed a non-fatal but highly debilitating slash on the man's leg. His own weight forced him to his knees. Unsatisfied, Rikke advanced on him still, anxious to take his life before moving on.
Ulfric immediately ran to his friend's aid, leaving me to contend with Tullius alone. I kept up the assault on him to avoid losing any ground I had gained, but it seemed as though the man found new strength. He wanted me dead more than anything. He once again failed to kill me at the execution; this fight would be his final chance. “All of this is your fault,” he reminded me, knocking me back slightly with a powerful hit.
I panted as I tried to retaliate. My blade missed him when he step-sided, but I was able to block his next easily predictable hit. “It is...” I agreed with him between labored breaths, “and I'm sorry.” My apology took him off guard and I was able to switch to the offensive. “You aren't my enemy, as much as I wanted you to be. You never were, and I'm sorry I blamed you. You're a pawn in the Thalmor's game, just like I was.”
He growled, my words seeming to anger him more. “I am no one's pawn! You are a turncoat traitor! All of this blood is on your hands!”
In his anger, he started making mistakes. As he swung too hard, I was easily able to avoid it, striking him across his sword arm. I cut through the softer bends of his royal Imperial armor deep enough to draw blood. As he hissed in pain, I muttered, “I'm sorry this is how it has to be, Tullius...”
With my final apology, he cursed my name and lunged at me. I saw my opportunity, taking the hit to force my blade through his torso. My abdomen stung as his sword dug into my side. I couldn't help the gasp that left my lips as the steel ripped into my skin. To my luck, his enraged attack missed vital organs, but I could still feel the blood soaking my armor.
I grabbed my bleeding side as I pulled away from him, meeting the man's pained expression. My blade pierced through his chest. He gasped for breath as he fell against the wall. Tullius' expression turned from hatred to sadness as he realized how limited his time was. In those last moments, he his eyes turned towards Rikke.
The two Nords were still locked in a deadly combat. The woman held a fire in her eyes that grew with each hit that didn't kill the man in front of her. Unlike Tullius, she was still in control of herself, making few mistakes or letting the Jarl take the advantage. In comparison, I saw the king was holding back. His intensity was only a fraction of what I knew it could be. He didn't want to kill her; he truly couldn't. He needed a way out.
Still clutching my side, I stumbled over to them. “Rikke,” I called, trying to get her attention. “It... It's over.”
As they collided weapons once again, the woman glanced my direction. Her fiery snarl disappeared when she saw the dying man laying against the wall. She scowled as she shoved Ulfric backwards, attempting to catch her breath. Her eyes seemed to lack their luster for several moments as she tried to process what she saw before her. “Tullius...” she whispered softly, gripping her blade tighter in her hand.
I winced as the pain from my side began to pulse. I tried to keep a neutral tone, “There's no reason to fight any longer. We've won.”
“Won?” she scoffed, her eyes darting to me. “You've lost everything, and now so have I. Where is the victory? What do you have left to celebrate?”
My eyes looked over at Galmar as he managed to pull himself to his knees and lean against the warhammer for support. “My new family,” I started, feeling myself smile when I looked over at Ulfric. His beautiful hazel eyes were focused on me. After a moment of simply watching me, he managed that half-smile that always seemed to melt me. “...and my new home.” I put my eyes back on her. "I lost much, but it seems I've gained more."
Rikke breathed out shakily as she heard my words. She stared at Ulfric for a long time, a mix of emotion running through her body. I could hear her whisper something under her breath as she tightened her fist around the blade. “There will be no victory today,” she finally snarled. “Not for the Empire, and not for the Stormcloaks. And not for the would-be Nord harlot. May you find no seat in Sovngarde!”
Her cryptic words caught me off-guard. Already slowed due to injury, I couldn't protect myself from her sudden charge. Her blade had aimed for my chest, but it never reached its target. With just as much suddenness as the woman herself, Ulfric sprung into action, his free arm wrapping itself around the woman's throat while he forced his blade through her back.
Rikke gasped, the faintest hint of a whimper leaving her lips. I watched the light leave her eyes as the anger and sorrow filled tears finally ceased. Her body went limp against the man who loved and slain her, but at last she looked at peace.
Ulfric gently laid her on the floor, but he immediately turned to look at me. “Are yo-” I didn't even let the words leave his lips before I rushed over to him, holding him tightly. He sighed in relief. “I ask again, are you always this reckless?”
I laughed lightly, holding my side again as I pulled away. “It... gets the job done.” I slowly looked over to Tullius. His eyes were still locked on Rikke's body, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest had stopped. The General and his Legate had fallen. The war was finally over.
Galmar chuckled as he limped over to us, putting his hand on Ulfric's shoulder. He smiled widely at his friend. “I think it's time we put an end to this bloodshed among brothers. A speech is in order.”
“Aye,” the Jarl muttered, nodding to his friend. “Gather the men and find Lady Elisif. I'll meet you outside in a moment.” The older Nord grinned as he headed for the door, closing it behind him. Ulfric waited until he was gone to look back at me. “Are you able to heal yourself?”
“I think so... At least a little,” I told him, slowly pulling my hand from the wound to ready the spell. “Did you get hurt?”
He gave the faintest nod as his gaze shifted to the woman on the floor before looking back at me. “Aye, but it's nothing time won't heal.” He began walking towards the main hall and I followed, silent as I concentrated on the spell. He added suddenly, “I used to love her, Talia. I didn't want you to be confused by that.”
I shook my head as my magicka reserves ran out. I wasn't entirely healed, but the relief was already noticeable. “I wasn't worried, Ulfric. If you still love her, I won't be mad. I... I can imagine she loved you too.”
He took a deep breath as he turned to face me fully. “I thought we were in love for a long time. We were both young, stupid, stubborn Nords. We wanted to fight, and bleed, and die for our home. We were afraid of being wrong and wanted to destroy anything that made us that way. We were the exact same. That's why we thought we were in love.” He stared at me for a moment, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe the words leaving his lips, “But you... You're nothing like me. You're patient and understanding and annoyingly goodhearted. You gave up everything to get here and yet you're standing there with a smile as if you've lost nothing. You're everything I'm not. That's why I need you.”
I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks burn. “You're a good person-”
“You're better,” he cut me off, taking a step towards me. “I knew I would have to kill her, but I wasn't ready. I was holding on to the hope that the Rikke I thought I loved would come back, but she was never there. You were, though. When it came down to it, I couldn't lose you.” He smiled sadly, tucking the hair behind my ear. “I can't lose you again."
“I told you when this was over,” he continued, “I would give you back everything you lost, but I lied. I can never repay you for any of this.” He gently tilted my head so I couldn't avoid his gaze. His kind smile sent butterflies into my stomach. “I can only offer you this: if you stay with me, I'll make sure you are never lonely again. This isn't your homeland, but I'll do everything I can to make you feel welcomed. Anything you want, you can have it. I don't have much to offer, but it's yours.”
I shook my head, smiling like a love-drunk fool. He spoke as though he didn't already have my heart. To hear him say how much I was wanted- needed- was all I ever needed to hear. I wasn't a burden to him, or an asset. I was someone he desired to be around. I was truly someone he loved. “This is all I need,” I told him after a moment, my hand going to his as he caressed my face. “As long as I'm with you, that's enough...”
He leaned his forehead against mine and sighed in relief. I watched him, enjoying seeing the stoic king looking so at peace. Reluctantly, I pressed my lips against his. There was nothing I experienced as pure as that moment. Free of the burdens of war and the internal battles of his mind, Ulfric was allowed to simply be. And of all things, he wanted to be with me.
“You two can't wait until we get home?” Galmar's gruff voice taunted. We both flinched, Ulfric giving him a warning look. The older Nord just chuckled. “The men are gathered and wait for your word.”
The Jarl sighed heavily and nodded. “Let's not keep them waiting any longer then.” He offered his hand to me.
I started to take it before a thought occurred to me. “The Emperor...” Ulfric furrowed his brow. I began to explain, “My father... He's going after the Emperor now.” I stared at Ulfric, chewing the inside of my lip as I worked up the courage to tell him. “I have to stop him. There's no one left that can defend the Emperor. If he dies...”
Ulfric's gaze remained unwavering as he thought about what I was saying. He glanced at Galmar, the other Nord looked equally deep in thought. When he looked back at me, he murmured, “Where?”
“His ship, the Katariah,” I responded. “Ulfric, I know-”
“Go,” he said simply, catching me off guard. “You were right about Cyrodiil. Skyrim will be okay, but the Empire will crumble. We'll finish up here and meet you at the ship as soon as we can.” I smiled gratefully, nodding as I hurried out the door ahead of him. “Talia?” When I stopped, he smiled. “Talos Guide You.”
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