I doubt those two had even a moment of sleep. I’ve never seen two people so…
Frina yawned and stretched, and nibbled on the meager rations her nervous stomach would allow her to consume. It had been a very short night between her excitement and nervousness over the battle just ahead, and the periodic interruption to her quiet of Dardeh making small but resonant sounds in the next tent. At first she’d been appalled, and embarrassed; then she’d decided to just laugh at it. They were so very happy to see one another again.
Dardeh had been almost a different man than when she’d seen him last. In spite of being disturbed by the battle sites he had seen he was calm, and clearly happy to see Roggi in spite of whatever disagreement they’d had earlier. It was obvious that some great weight had been lifted from his mind; and for that she could put up with a little bit of noise as the two of them got reacquainted.
They came stumbling out of their tiny tent grinning sheepishly and wolfed down a bit of breakfast. Galmar emerged from the command tent, yelling at everyone.
“Let’s get going! We’re going to take the city! Get yourselves up the road and meet the brothers preparing for the attack! We’ve already been working on the approach with siege engines, now it’s time to show them what Stormcloaks are really made of! Fight well, or die well! Talos be with you!”
A cheer went up from the camp; and in groups of two or three they began jogging up the slope and onto the road to Solitude. Frina gathered Roggi and Dardeh and followed those groups, feeling more and more nervous.
“This is it,” she said. “I’m ashamed to admit that I’m afraid.”
To her complete surprise, Dardeh reached out and patted her on the shoulder.
“I know what will help,” he said. “Here. Meditate with me for a minute.” He moved to the side of the road and knelt, his eyes closed; and Frina felt herself breaking into a smile.
She knelt down beside him.
Praise you, Talos. Be with us this day for we are about to take on a great enterprise in your name, to restore the right of your people to worship you as they see fit.
“Oh all right,” she heard Roggi grumble, and opened her eyes to see him kneel beside Dardeh. A moment or two passed, and then he rose again. “Talos be with you, you two. Now let’s get going before we miss it.”
Dardeh chuckled and stood, holding out a hand to Frina. “Don’t give us a hard time, Roggi,” he said. “You knew this was important to us from the start. And I think,” he added, poking his husband in the arm, “that it’s important to you as well.”
“Well,” Roggi said, dusting himself off, “if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. Now let’s go.”
They could see the outskirts of the battlefield well before they could see any of the individuals in it, and before they could hear it. Columns of smoke rose from structures near the outermost gates of Solitude and from near the stables. The smoke hung heavy in the air, the sun through it giving an eerie yellow cast to everything around them. As they moved closer they could hear intermittent explosions. Frina was immediately taken back to the battle for Whiterun, and looked around to be sure there were no flaming pots of oil coming for them here.
As they passed beneath the first set of arches marking Solitude’s outer gate she saw the Stormcloaks massed on the final approach to the city. At their head, facing down the hill, was a familiar figure wearing armor draped in blue, his enormous pauldrons making him seem larger than life.
“Ulfric!” she cried in surprise.
“Yeah, of course he’s here,” Dardeh muttered. “You don’t think he’d miss a chance to look important, do you?”
“Behave, Dar,” Roggi said. “This is going to make a huge difference. Two of you who can Shout? Nobody on their side can do that. Tullius probably doesn’t even believe it can be done; you saw what he was like.”
“True enough,” Dardeh said. He looked at Frina and smiled. “You ok?”
“Yes,” she said. No, I’m not. I want to see him. I want to hear what he’s saying. But she wouldn’t say that to the man who had just stunned her by joining her in asking Talos for his protection. Dardeh was not a demon. He was a Nord, just like her; a Nord who prayed to Talos, the god of men. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thanks. Let’s go hear what he’s up to.”
She followed Dardeh’s broad back up through the burning remnants of barricades and carts, and slowed as they neared Ulfric. She thought for a moment that he looked at her and nodded, and her emotions swelled; but then she looked around, back at the large group of soldiers, and realized he might well have been acknowledging any of them.
He started to speak. Just as it had in the throne room in the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric’s voice soared, heavy with power and authority, and she stood in awe and listened.
“This is it, men! It’s time to make this city ours!” He looked around the group, meeting each man’s and woman’s gaze, and a cheer rang out from the ranks. “We come to this moment carried by the sacrifices and courage of our fellows – those who have fallen, those who are still bearing the shields to our right. On this day our enemy will know the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger, and the exalted righteousness of our cause!”
Gods, yes. Yes!
“The gods are watching!” Ulfric shouted, his voice harsh with anger and passion. “The spirits of our ancestors are stirring! And men under suns yet to dawn will be transformed by what we do here today.” He paused, and looked them all over. “Fear neither pain nor darkness, for Sovngarde awaits those who die with weapons in their hands and courage in their hearts!”
Frina heard a noise beside her and turned to see Dardeh, his head bowed, with tears slipping down the sides of his nose. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but Roggi stood beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“We now fight our way to Castle Dour,” Ulfric continued, “to cut the head off the Legion itself. And in that moment the gods themselves will look down and see Skyrim as she was meant to be: full of Nords who are mighty, powerful, and free!”
A great cheer went up from all the soldiers. Even Dardeh drew his sword and waved it over his head. Frina found herself wiping tears of her own out of her eyes, unable to stop staring at Ulfric and wanting nothing more than to fight at his side.
This is it, sister, she thought, closing her eyes and sending all of her love to the sister who had not lived to see this day but who had sparked the flame in her own heart. We’re fighting with Ulfric. This is it. She opened her eyes and looked at Roggi, fierce and proud, holding his sword high, his eyes glistening, and knew he was thinking the same thing when he glanced at her and nodded.
“Ready now!” Ulfric screamed. “Everyone! With me! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!”
Another massive cheer went up; and then a huge explosion of sound ricocheted off the tall stone walls of Solitude as Dardeh Shouted. Frina didn’t know what words he had shouted, but she recognized the surge of energy that coursed through her – and through everyone else given their excited expressions. She saw Ulfric look startled for just a moment, then grin at Dardeh and point at the great gates of the city.
They all rushed in.
For just a moment it was dead silent, save for the crackling of flames.
Then Galmar growled, “What was that?” and ran forward toward the central marketplace. Frina looked around to find a target. Behind her, she heard Roggi shout “You’re mine!”
Suddenly the Imperials poured into the streets, rushing down the ramp from the blacksmith’s shop, coming out from behind the stall where the woman had been who had asked Frina to skewer a Stormcloak or two for her. She sprinted after Dardeh and then had to pull up as he stopped short and Shouted. A huge burst of sound and a visible shock wave spread out from in front of him, and three of the Imperial attackers flew backward into the wall of the ramp. For a moment she hesitated, not wanting to see whether he had turned the men to ash; but they rose and ran forward again, and it was too confusing for her to think about anything but survival from that point on.
Frina blocked an attack from a swordsman to her right, then pivoted and caught him in the abdomen with her axe. He fell, groaning, and she put him out of his misery with her pick. She turned to follow Roggi toward a huge clump of Imperials and then winced along with everyone else as a piercingly loud, metallic noise threw the weapons out of the hands of at least two of them. She looked around, in confusion, because Dardeh had run up the ramp to her left; then she saw Ulfric advancing on the disarmed men.
It was Ulfric! He did it! He disarmed them! By the Nine I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to see Ulfric on that throne.
She waded into the clot of men, trying hard to hit only those with the brown and red Imperial armor, praying to Talos that she would not strike any of her brothers and sisters in arms. Blow after blow she threw. As it had been in all of the other battles the cacophony of noise was nearly overwhelming; there were shrieks of pain, taunts, grunts and the near-constant clash of weapons, and over all of it the roar of flames. Every so often a phrase would come clear.
“I’m getting bored!” That was Galmar, swinging a huge warhammer around him in a circle, crushing any skull it contacted. It was hard not to laugh, even as she ducked to avoid the wild sweep of an Imperial sword. Behind her, once, she heard Roggi swearing. “Son of a…” followed by the juicy sound of his greatsword slicing through a man.
She looked up from pulling her war pick out of a man’s side just in time to see Ulfric sneering at the Imperial bearing down on him. “You call this a fight?” he laughed, then opened the man with a two-handed swing of his war axe. She saw Dardeh, on the ramp to the blacksmith, about to be overrun by Imperials and dashed to him, only to duck as Ulfric again disarmed the men with his Voice. Dardeh stood from the attack, turned to his left, and Shouted up the ramp catching another group of Imperials and sending them through the air. He turned and waved at Ulfric, who laughed long and loud.
The two of them are just showing off for each other! That’s what they’re doing!
She saw a sword being raised and screamed.
“Ulfric! Behind you!”
He turned. “Where did you come from?” he yelled; and in the next breath swung with both hands once more on his war axe and lopped the man’s head off. Frina watched, mesmerized, as it went sailing out over the surging troops and landed in the middle of one of the fires burning in the center of town.
It took Frina a moment to shake herself back into focus, and by that time Dardeh had run ahead and demolished the last of the barriers erected around Solitude’s main square. He was rushing back toward her when Ulfric Shouted once more, blowing a man off his feet. Roggi came up behind him and lifted his sword high over the downed man.
“If death is what you want, you’ll have it,” he growled, stabbing straight down into the man’s body.
Frina swallowed hard. She’d seen him do many things, and heard him do others, and in spite of that it was still hard for her to reconcile this hard man with the smiling one who had hugged her and told her she’d done well.
I’d better get moving or he’ll never have reason to praise me again.
They surged forward, past the barricade Dardeh had destroyed, and around the corner near the Bard’s College. Frina’s heart fell as she watched Ulfric and Galmar running straight ahead into a group of at least a dozen Imperial soldiers, with two or three archers farther up the slope towards Castle Dour. She found the nearest of them and slipped up behind him, attacking with both hands and dropping him easily.
That might not have been honorable. It was effective, though.
Her ears started to ring; for not only were the soldiers on both sides screaming at each other but also Ulfric Shouted again, disarming the opponent directly ahead of him. A moment later Dardeh shouted, throwing two more of the men into the air. One of them landed awkwardly and started screaming, holding his leg. She could see that it was broken, bent back in on itself at a horrible angle; and before she could do anything else Galmar took a few steps forward and put the man out of his misery with a hammer blow to the head.
Frina looked up the hill and saw a lone archer standing in front of a barricade and taking aim at Ulfric, who was in the middle of a group of four Imperials. He was handling them well, but he couldn’t see the archer at all. There was no time to waste. She sprinted uphill and slammed into the man as hard as she could; he loosed his arrow just as she struck him and it flew harmlessly into the juniper bushes at the side of the road. She screamed at him as she brought her pick down. “Not Ulfric! Not Ulfric!”
Looking ahead, she could see that there was only a single Imperial soldier beyond the barricade. That man was holding a warhammer, but he was all that stood between the Stormcloaks and Castle Dour. She turned and screamed back at the battle.
“Ulfric! Up here!”
She didn’t wait to see whether he had heard. Instead, she turned and hammered at the barricade until it fell and then rushed at the lone soldier guarding the castle doors.
What fools to leave the door mostly unguarded! Surely they must have realized that somebody would get through?
The man they’d left behind was very possibly the best ordinary soldier they had in the entire city. That’s what she decided a few moments later as the two of them circled each other, he with his hammer horizontally in front of him and she with both weapons high, looking for any sort of opening. He lunged at her, sliding his left hand in toward the right and taking a wicked swing at the spot where her skull would have been had she not rolled at the last second. She swept her axe around as she rolled and caught him on one thigh, slicing it open; he hissed but did not falter as he gathered his hammer up again. Frina scrambled to her feet and waited until he took one stumbling step toward the left, his injured side, and then swung as hard as she could with her pick.
She missed. The pick hit the ground. She yanked it up as hard as she could and whirled around to find the man grinning at her, his warhammer high over his head.
“Not quite as clever as you thought you were, are y—“
His words ended as an arrow entered one of his temples and came all the way out the other side of his head. He dropped in a heap, his warhammer thudding to the dirt just short of Frina. She turned to see Roggi, standing grim-faced in the archway to the castle courtyard, his bow held high. He turned and waved behind him, and then ran to help her to her feet.
“You ok?”
“Yes. Thank you. That was way too close.”
“Told you we needed to watch out for each other,” he panted. Frina smiled at him, a part of her mind noting that yes, Roggi was older than he had been when she was a child. The exertion took a greater toll than it had in the past. And how much more then would Ulfric and Galmar be suffering?
She watched anxiously until the two figures appeared, trotting up over the rise, with Dardeh bringing up the rear, facing back into the city, Shouting down the Imperials trying to stop them. She pushed open the door to the castle and held it while Ulfric, Galmar and Roggi pushed past her. Dardeh ran to her and said “get inside,” and held the door open for another moment or two before following her in.
Her ears rang at the sudden quiet of the castle’s interior, its solid walls blocking out most of the noise of battle.
“Secure the door,” Ulfric said, nodding at Dardeh.
“Already done,” Galmar rasped.
Frina gazed around her at the same calm, clean interior that she’d stood in on the day she had heard General Tullius and his Legate talk about taking Whiterun, and shook her head. It was hard to believe this was the same place. It was hard to believe that she was the same person she’d been then.
“Ulfric, stop!” came a woman’s voice from the next room.
“Stop what?” he yelled, in a tone that said he knew the woman. “Taking Skryim back from those who would leave her to rot?”
They moved forward, all of them, through the doorway and into what was clearly General Tullius’ war room. It was hung with the rich red and golden banners of the Empire, pristine rather than tattered as were those in the Legion’s outposts. Maps, scrolls and books littered the large central table. A woman in the armor of an Imperial Legate stood blocking the chair in the corner. Frina moved out of the way to the side and gasped as she realized that the man sitting in that chair was none other than the General himself, arms resting on his legs, head hanging.
“You’re wrong, Ulfric,” the woman said. “We need the Empire. Without it, Skyrim will surely fall to the Dominion.”
“The Empire’s going to fall to the Dominion if we’re not strong, Rikke,” Dardeh murmured, “and we’re not strong without our freedom.” She shook her head at him.
“You were there with us,” Galmar said. “You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty was the day the Empire died.”
Ulfric took another step closer to the Legate. “The Empire is weak. Obsolete!” It sounded to Frina as though he was almost pleading with the woman. “Look at how far we’ve come. With so little! When we’re done rooting out the Imperial influence here at home, then we will take our war to the Aldmeri Dominion.”
Roggi hissed. He’d been standing quietly to the side, but when Ulfric spoke he shook his head, turned, and slammed the heel of his hand down on the map table. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. She glanced at Dardeh, who was shaking his head as well.
Frina didn’t know what to think.
“You’re a damned fool,” Legate Rikke spat.
“Stand aside, woman!” Galmar said. “We’ve come for the General.”
She took another step forward, blocking them from the General. “He has given up,” she said calmly, “but I have not.”
Ulfric spoke, quietly, again almost pleading with her. “Rikke. Go. You are free to leave!”
He’s known her for a long time. They were in the Great War together. Maybe they were more than that. Who knows? It doesn’t matter. Ulfric is giving her a chance to live, is trying to spare her life.
I honor this man with everything I am, even if she does not.
Rikke sneered out from under her helmet. “I’m also free to stay and fight for what I believe in.”
“You’re also free to die.” This time Ulfric sounded disgusted.
“This is what you wanted? Shield-brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart?”
“That is exactly why I am in this war,” Dardeh snarled. “To stop it.”
She ignored him, completely. “This is the Skyrim-“
“Damn it, woman, step aside!” Galmar yelled.
She drew her sword. “That’s not the Skyrim I want to live in.”
“Rikke,” Ulfric began. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You leave me no choice,” she snarled. “Talos preserve us.”
And then there was chaos. Suddenly Rikke took a swing at Galmar, who swung back. Tullius vaulted out of his chair, yelling “Die, villain!” and attacked Ulfric. Dardeh leaned forward and Shouted, and Tullius was tossed onto the ground. Ulfric Shouted, attempting to disarm Rikke, and Roggi jumped between her and Ulfric, swinging at her wildly. Tullius stepped out from behind both of them and attacked Galmar.
Frina raised her weapons, trying to see where she could be of use and not hit an ally, and finally started beating on the back of Tullius’ heavy armor. She heard a groan, off to her right, and looked over just in time to see Dardeh sink his double-edged sword into Rikke’s chest. Then everyone was on Tullius, and she didn’t dare move for fear of striking Roggi, or Dardeh – or Ulfric – so she stepped back, and just as well. Tullius retreated to a nearby half-flight stairwell and turned to take aim at Ulfric.
“Come on, I dare you,” Ulfric sneered, and then Shouted. Tullius flew backwards, landing awkwardly and scrambling to regain his feet.
“Enough,” she heard him wheezing. “Enough. This is enough.”
“This is it for you,” Ulfric said quietly. “Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?”
Frina shuddered. He really means to kill Tullius! I thought they might just take him prisoner. But… I suppose… If he lives, what remains of his forces will try to come to his rescue and the war will just drag on.
Tullius gave a quiet little snort of sarcastic laughter. “You realize this is exactly what they wanted.”
“What who wanted?” Galmar asked.
“The Thalmor. Who else?” Tullius said, shaking his head. “They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion.”
Dardeh snorted. “You’re the one who threw away soldiers. Nobody said you had to do what the Thalmor wanted.”
“It’s a little more than a rebellion, don’t you think?” Ulfric said quietly.
“It’s our way of life at stake,” Roggi said.
“We aren’t the bad guys, you know,” Tullius sighed.
“Maybe not,” Ulfric said. “But you certainly aren’t the good guys.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Tullius said, not looking at Ulfric. “But then what does that make you?”
“Does it even matter?” Dardeh mumbled.
“You just said it yourself,” Ulfric said, smiling.
“It makes us right,” Galmar said.
“If nothing else, it makes us the winners,” Roggi added.
Tullius looked down at the floor. “And if I surrender?”
Frina watched Ulfric’s eyes grow wide for a moment.
Roggi snorted. “Oh yes, do that.” Frina stared at him and shuddered at the hungry look in his eyes. Dardeh shook his head at his husband.
I am completely out of my element here. I don’t even understand half of what they’re talking about. All of these people, except for Dardeh and I, have known each other for years, and Dardeh has worked with them at a high level for some time now. I have nothing to add, but…
“Yes,” she whispered, trying to catch Ulfric’s attention, pleading with him. Let the man live. Don’t kill him. There’s nothing to be gained by killing him. Look at how defeated he is already. But Ulfric simply sneered.
“The Empire I knew never surrendered.”
“That Empire is dead,” Galmar growled. Then he raised his warhammer and shook it at Tullius. “And so are you.”
“So be it,” Tullius sighed.
Galmar looked up at Ulfric. “Just kill him and let’s be done with it already.”
“Come, Galmar,” Ulfric said, smirking. “Where’s your sense of the dramatic moment?”
“Shor’s balls, Ulfric,” Roggi snorted. He sat down heavily and shook his head. Frina quietly moved to the chair next to him, and took his hand for a moment, giving it a squeeze.
“By the gods,” Galmar said. “If it’s a good ending to some damn story you’re after…”
“Hmm.” Ulfric looked around, and smiled – a smile that had the hair on Frina’s neck rising – when he saw Dardeh pacing nearby. “Good point. What do you say, Dragonborn? Do you want the honor?”
Dardeh made a disgusted noise. “No. That honor belongs to you.”
Ulfric shrugged. “As you wish.” He raised his axe and looked around the room. “This moment, we five will be immortalized in song.”
“A song I for one will never sing,” Roggi muttered.
Ulfric pulled back his axe and brought it down in one enormous blow. Tullius’ head dropped from his neck and rolled drunkenly across the floor.
“And to think,” Dardeh said. “The first time I saw you, that’s what he was trying to do to you.”
“That’s true,” Ulfric said. “And now it’s done.” He took a few paces back and forth across the room and then sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose some kind of official statement is in order.”
“I’ll go gather the men in the courtyard,” Galmar said.
“And Elisif?”
“Don’t you worry about her. I sent my best men to round her up.”
Frina was shocked when Ulfric looked directly at her and smiled. “Stormblade. I want you to have my sword. A token of my appreciation.”
Frina took the sword – a stunning piece of elven make, humming with magic – but looked up at him and shook her head. “Sir, I did very little –“
“Hush,” Roggi whispered to her, patting her hand. “Just take the gift. You’ve done plenty.”
“Now then,” Ulfric continued, “the men will expect a speech. Will you stand by my side, Dragonborn?”
Dardeh looked up at the ceiling and laughed, a single bark of humorless laughter.
“No, Ulfric. I genuinely thank you for the offer, but I think you should leave me out of your speech.” He moved to stand beside Roggi’s chair, and put a hand on his shoulder. Roggi reached up to cover Dardeh’s hand with his own; and not for the first time Frina was struck by the love these two men showed each other in even the smallest of moments.
“And what about you, Stormblade?” Ulfric said. “I wish to honor you, the truest of Stormcloaks.”
Frina looked at Roggi. He sighed, smiled, and nodded. “Go,” he whispered.
I trust Roggi. If he thinks it’s ok, then it’s ok.
Frina rose from her chair and took the few steps to Ulfric’s side. “It would be an honor, sir,” she said. “On behalf of myself, and my sister, who wanted nothing more than to fight at your side.”
Ulfric gazed at her for a long moment, with an expression that she had no way to read. Then he smiled. “Very well. Come. The people await us.”
Galmar left first, followed by Ulfric. Frina made her way across the room. Behind her, she heard Dardeh.
“Roggi. Are you alright?”
“I will be, my love. I will be.”
___
Galmar was already speaking when Frina stepped through the door and, smiling, made her way to stand beside Ulfric Stormcloak. All of the surviving Stormcloak troops, many of them bleeding, or with black eyes beginning to shine, stood in the courtyard. To the last one, they were grinning from ear to ear.
“And now, I present to you Ulfric Stormcloak: hero of the people, liberator, and High King of Skyrim!”
A raucous cheer went up from the assembled troops. Frina couldn’t help but smile.
Ulfric looked around and nodded.
“I am indeed Ulfric Stormcloak. And at my side, the woman we know as Stormblade.” He smiled at her. Frina felt a lump rising in her throat.
We did it, Briinda. We did it. This is for you, my dearest sister, and for Talos.
“And indeed, there are many that call us heroes,” Ulfric continued. “But! It is all of you who are the true heroes!” He pointed out at the crowd, and Frina saw him pick out Ralof, standing triumphantly at the back of the group, and then turn and point to Galmar, Roggi, and Dardeh. Then he swept his hand across the space before him.
All of them. They truly were the heroes.
“It was you who fought a dying Empire that sunk its claws into our land trying to drag us down with it. It was you who fought the Thalmor and their puppets who would have us deny our gods and our heritage!”
“Damn right,” she heard Dardeh say from behind her.
“It was you who fought our kin who didn’t understand our cause, who weren’t willing to pay the price for our freedom! But more than that, it was you who fought for Skyrim, for our right to fight our own battles, to return to our glory and traditions! To determine our own future!”
He was shouting to the crowd, but Frina saw him staring at her.
And what future will you have, my lord? What will happen now? Will I have any part of it?
“And it is for these reasons that I cannot accept the mantle of High King,” Ulfric said.
“What?” Frina gasped, turning to face him, her shock echoed in the faces of the assembled soldiers.
“Of course not,” Roggi muttered, standing in front of them with his arms crossed.
Ulfric smirked at him. “Not until the Moot declares that title should adorn my shoulders will I accept it.”
“And what about Jarl Elisif?” a woman shouted from somewhere in the courtyard.
“Yes, what about the Lady Elisif?” Ulfric said. “Will she put aside her personal hatred for me, and her misplaced love for the Empire, so the suffering of our people will end? Will she acknowledge that it is we Nords who should determine Skyrim’s future? Will she swear fealty to me, so all may know that we are at peace, and a new day has dawned?”
Frina looked out across the courtyard and saw a woman in noble clothing, surrounded by angry-looking soldiers. It seemed to her that the Lady Elisif was not in a position to do anything but agree with Ulfric at that moment.
“I…do,” she said, holding her chin up defiantly.
She may not have had a choice, but she conducted herself well.
“Then it is settled!” Ulfric shouted, raising his voice in such a way that no one would be able to say, later, that they had not heard him. “The Jarl will continue to rule Solitude. I will garrison armies here to ward off Imperial attempts to reclaim the city. And, in due time, the Moot will meet, and settle the claim to High King once and for all. There is much to do, and I need every able-bodied man and woman committed to rebuilding Skyrim. A great darkness is growing, and soon we will be called to fight it on these shores or abroad! The Aldmeri Dominion may have defeated the Empire, but it has not defeated Skyrim!”
Great cheers rang out, from all sides: the soldiers, those few townsfolk who had ventured forth to see what was transpiring in the city’s center, shopkeepers lining the walls of the smithy’s balcony.
Roggi, however, was not cheering, and he was not smiling. He took his place beside Dardeh and murmured, “I was afraid that was what he would say.”
“What do you mean?” Dardeh said.
“There is a great darkness building. And we will be called to fight it.”
“Yes,” Dardeh said, wrapping an arm around Roggi’s shoulder. “It’s what Arngeir said, too. Season Unending. But for now, husband, perhaps it is time for you and I to gather our children, and return to our home, and maybe use our skills to help rebuild what has been torn apart.”
Roggi smiled at him. “I do suppose there will be call for miners, won’t there?”
Dardeh nodded. “You know there will be. Miners – and dragon slayers.”
Roggi laughed. “Let’s go home, Dar.”
Dardeh nodded, and used his arm to turn Roggi toward the gates. “Let’s.”
Frina watched them walk away, utterly wrapped up in each other, and knew she had no business inserting herself into their moment. She turned back toward Ulfric and Galmar.
What do I do now? I came here to fight this war, and now it is done. Where shall I go?
“How’d I do?” Ulfric asked Galmar, grinning.
“Ehh…. Not so bad. Nice touch about the High King.”
“Thank you,” Ulfric said. “I thought so.”
Frina couldn’t help it: she burst into giggles, all of the stress of the past days breaking out. She couldn’t stop. Ulfric looked at her and started chuckling as well.
“You find me amusing, Frina?”
“Yes, my lord,” she snorted. “I’m sorry.”
“Huh,” Galmar said. “Well, it’s a foregone conclusion, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Ulfric said, winking.
“The Imperials are not going to leave us alone,” Galmar grumbled. “They still have camps in the hills. They’ll still strike out at us wherever and whenever they can.”
Ulfric stretched his arms out behind him. “I’m not afraid of the remnants of the Legion. In time they’ll all give up and go home. What I fear, though, is that the Thalmor will see our victory here and turn greater attention to our shores. We must be prepared to face them.”
Frina’s giggles stopped, abruptly. No wonder Ulfric had been so hesitant to begin the heavy fighting. He saw beyond the end of the civil war to see the danger lurking on the other side.
By the Nine. What have we done? Talos help us all.
“And of course,” Ulfric said, stepping closer to her, “we couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Thank you, my lord. If there is anything else I can do for you, you need only ask.”
Ulfric smiled and leaned over to speak softly into her ear. “In that case, Frina, come to see me in a few days, once I have returned to Windhelm. We will speak of your future at that time.”
Frina gulped, not only from the nearness of the man but from the words he spoke. Her future?
“Come, Galmar. We’ve still much work to do,” Ulfric said, turning to his old friend.
“Aye.”
The two of them walked, side by side, toward the gates of the city. Frina followed, at a distance, watching the two figures in blue move down the streets, stepping around dead bodies and around still-blazing fires.
And she wondered where she should go.
