Child (Book 2)

Chapter 23

"Can I have a slice of eidar cheese and some leeks?"
"Of course." The barmaid says quietly, and hurries away. I keep my hood pulled tightly around my face. Maybe the robe was a bit too dramatic; now I just look like a suspicious mage instead of a suspicious Stormcloak. I had hoped the Winking Skeever Inn wouldn't be so full. I've never been to Solitude and the Legion has yet to figure out that I'm a spy, so it's highly doubtful I'll be recognized. Still, as Galmar has told me, you can never be too careful. I made sure to slip through the second passage under the city for this very reason. It took me a day and a half of travel to arrive here. That means that tonight, Galmar and the others are taking the last fort a few miles away. I can tell that the guards know by looking at their restlessness and nervous glances at each other, but the rest of the citizens are oblivious. I feel almost guilty for not warning them to board up their homes and hide as I did for Whiterun. Then again, as I watched them happily execute the man that let Ulfric through the gate after he challenged and killed King Torryg, I decided I felt very little pity for them.
While I'm eating, two Imperial soldiers walk in and sit at the bar, talking and laughing quietly. I notice that the two of them both have fine Dwarven bows strapped to their backs. As the hours pass, they drink more and more of the alto wine; when they're finally stumbling towards the door around one in the morning, I don't think they can even see straight. One of them walks face first into the stone door facing. I guess I was right. Moving like a shadow, I follow them out the door.
"We... We can't be late to our posts again Morius.." One of them slurs. The other bursts into laughter.
"Does it even matter? Are you s-still a sharp shooter when you're hungover?" He asks. I was correct in my assumptions; these two are both some of the gate archers that I've been sent to kill. I carefully take my dagger in my hand and disappear into an alleyway, still following from a distance. The streets are quiet and empty, aside from the odd beggar or other drunks.
One of them takes a moment to lean on a wall and vomit; I take the opportunity to hug him tightly around his shoulder with one arm, and using the other to slice open his throat, tossing his limp body aside into the shadows. His friend opens his mouth to shout, but not before my dagger finds his heart. Before he falls I grab him by the collar and pull him into the alleyway, laying him down quietly next to the other.
Perhaps I'm not the most graceful assassin in the world, but no one saw a thing and the job is done; halfway done, at least. I know I can't just leave them here; if they're found, there could be time for the Emperor to send their replacements, or at least for General Tullius to alert the archers that still remain. I pull open two empty barrels and stuff their limp bodies inside; I thank the gods that archers are typically smaller, less muscular people. I realize I have blood on my hands and sigh. I'll have to use the washbasin in my room at the tavern. For now though, I just stuff my hands in my pockets. Perhaps the black robe is a bit too much, but at least it doesn't stain.

~

Three days later, I wake up to the sound of a crying woman.
"They're coming! Sorex saw their camp outside the city. We have to board up the inn." She sobs. It's the bard; Sorex is the inkeeper's son, I've come to learn. I assume they mean the Stormcloaks. I've performed my duty, almost completely. I managed to poison the drinks of two more Imperial archers, leaving just one to defend the city. I figure it's about time to prepare for the siege, so I tell the innkeeper that I'm leaving the city and head out as they're about to barricade the door. I'll have to find somewhere else to hide until I can get to Ulfric. For a few minutes, Solitude is in chaos as people run for their homes and businesses. Then, suddenly, everything is quiet as I'm the only one left standing in the street. The quiet before a storm.
I hear a loud slam behind me. I look at the large metal gate, and I watch it shudder as something slams into it again from the other side. As I'm staring, I feel something heavy bump into me; it's a Imperial Legionnaire with a magnificent orcish bow strapped to his back, identical to the other imperial archers.
"I apologize miss, but you need to get inside. It's not safe for you out here." He says, urging me towards the nearest door. He's just one archer, but if his arrow finds Ulfric's heart, I'll never forgive myself. This is my only chance. Without a second thought, I push my dagger in his stomach.
"I think it's you that's not safe out here." I mumble as I twist the dagger before pulling it out. His blood spatters across the paving stones and there will be no hiding his body, but with only minutes to spare as the gate shudders against the weight of the battering ram, I don't think it matters much. He stumbles away from me, drawing his own orcish dagger as he does, but he quickly falls to the ground as he bleeds out. Satisfied with a job well done, I wipe his blood off my dagger with my robe as the life fades out of his eyes. Annoyingly, he did manage a shallow slice across my collarbone and neck. Not deep, and hardly bleeding. I won't waste my healing magic on it when someone else may need it more.
"You! Stop! In the name of the Emperor!" someone shouts. Three foot soldiers are running for me with their swords drawn. I know there's no way I could fight all three of them off with only my dagger, so I sheathe it and hope they haven't already seen it.
"What have you done?" One of them shouts in my face, harshly grabbing my shoulder.
"He attacked me! Didn't you see it?" I argue in my best Breton accent, adding a touch of hysteria to my tone. "He was convinced that I'm a Stormcloak spy because I'm not indoors! I had no choice but to defend myself."
"Arrest her; we'll figure it out later." He commands the other two, glancing to the gate. More and more Legionnaires gather, their bows aimed at the gates at they prepare for them to burst open. I want to shout; I want to warn the Stormcloaks what waits on the other side; but if I know anything, they know exactly what waits. The Legionnaires grab my arms and the one commanding them takes my knapsack as well as my dagger. I'm defenseless now, so I don't struggle.
Vaguely, I become aware that the cut on my chest has started to burn. I briefly look back at the dead archer's body and the dagger on the ground next to him; it has an oily, purple sheen to it. Definitely poison. Shit.
It seems at first that they're taking me to the Blue Palace; the better of the two options, The large, ornate castle is usually home to the High King. Now it only holds his widow, Elisif the Fair, along with the Jarls that are loyal to the Empire since Ulfric removed them from their respective holds as they were captured and promptly replaced them. The fact that the dethroned Jarls were allowed to escape to a cushy life in Solitude instead of being imprisoned and tortured in a cellar somewhere, or possibly executed, would no doubt ruffle the feathers of many of the truest sons and daughters of Skyrim. After spending his own time as a prisoner and torture victim, Ulfric refuses to give that punishment to anyone else. However, this secret is kept only between Ulfric and his closest Stormblades.
There may not be many friendly faces there, but certainly no one that would execute me on sight. Well, maybe Irileth.
Instead of bringing me there, the guards take a sharp turn and start dragging me towards the castle dour, the main headquarters of the Empire's forces in Skyrim. This is where General Tullius has taken to hiding in the last few weeks of the war. If anyone in this city knows who I really am, it's him; after all the trouble I've surely caused him, I can't imagine he'd keep me alive long enough for the Stormcloaks to find me. Without warning, I struggle against the tight grip of the two imperials. I stop dead in my tracks and struggle to free myself until a buzzing feeling overtakes me, along with a prickling on my skin.
Suddenly everything blurs together and I can't bring myself to walk in a straight line; my ears ring loudly. My mind is too foggy to tell how much time passes and I don't have the slightest idea of where I am now. Finally, something slams into my chest and I go tumbling back into reality. I see that I'm facedown on the ground, and I'm hit with the overwhelming urge to vomit. I can see somewhat clearly now, but I'm not sure I prefer being like this.
"General! We saw this woman stab Tribune Olinius in the street. He's dead. She claims it was self defense." I hear one of the Legionnaires say behind me. I get up on my hands and knees and turn to glare at the man speaking, and I notice he's bleeding from his eyebrow. I somewhat remember hitting something solid with my elbow in my struggle to escape; it must've been his face.
"You think I have time for this? The Stormcloaks are at the gates!" A nasal voice in a thick Cyrodiilian accent shouts at them.
"Sir, she said Olinius attacked her because he believed she was a Stormcloak spy." The other soldier insists.
I look up slowly at the person standing over me. He's short and wiry, barrel chested, but otherwise unimposing. He has the high cheek bones, olive skin, and brown eyes that characterize most Imperials. His hair has been trimmed short and is obviously thinning at an alarming rate. He purses his thin lips and grunts at me.
"Stand up."
I grab the edge of the table next to me and pull myself up. I have to focus most of my weight on the table, but I somehow manage it. I break out in a cold sweat; what sort of poison was that?
"What'd you do to her?" He grunts.
"We didn't do anything." They insist. They may be bootlickers, but at least they're not liars. General Tullius grabs my shoulder, then rips my sleeve at the seam, revealing my tattoos. He reaches forward and props my chin up to the light, getting a good look at my face. Blood drips from my nose and onto his hand; he shakes it off, disgusted.
"So, Jarl Ulfric sent the legendary Stormblade Novariana to kill my archers? He must be truly desperate." He says, wiping the blood from his hand with a cloth.
"Can't handle a little blood, General?" I ask, my breaths ragged.
"You're damn good at what you do, Novariana of Rorikstead. If I didn't have orders from the Emperor himself to bring him your head, I'd recruit you myself. I almost wonder if I should take you to him alive; if you're dead you only become a martyr." He wonders aloud. I ignore him, glancing at the maps and documents on his war table. He expects to escape to the docks through the very passage I entered through, and now he's considering taking me with him. I wonder if the Legionnaires in this room are aware that he intends them to be sacrificial lambs for his own escape.
"You said the same at our last meeting, General." I ask, swallowing my nausea.
"You say that as if we've met before." He replies; his eyes tell me that he remembers.
"Ah, but we have, sir. In Helgen. You, me and Ulfric; all three of us were there. Your captain tried to have me executed, for illegally crossing the border to my home country. An oxymoron, as I'm sure you're aware. Forget Skyrim; all you Legionnaires have ever wanted was my head." I explain, mostly trying to keep him distracted and away from the gate. General Tullius laughs.
"You're closer to the truth than you realize, Stormblade."
"I respect your position, General. I did have a question though; do all of the soldiers in this room know that they're to fall on their swords to help you escape?" I ask, looking at the table again.
"What, are you trying to tell me that Stormcloaks don't have contingency plans?" He scoffs. I shake my head dumbly as I look over his plans some more.
"I can't say we do. Ulfric is a true Nord; he'll die fighting and go to Sovngarde, when the day comes." I explain, growing bold enough to reach out and touch one of the documents, sliding it closer to me. I can't read the words; they blur together hopelessly.
"Today is the day, Stormblade. He won't even make it past the gates." He sneers as a door opens behind me.
"S-sir! They've broken down the gates; they're in the city. There were hundreds, too many to count... We need reinforcements, immediately." A trembling voice says behind me. It hurts like oblivion, but I burst out laughing. It's all I can do; my situation is just so terribly ironic. Ulfric was right— I'm going to die on this mission, either from the poison, or Tullius' own blade. However, General Tullius thinks I'm purely just laughing at him (which I am, to some extent) and his face grows red with fury. Finally, he explodes.
"You! Put her somewhere. I don't care where, just make sure she's out of the way. I'll take care of her later. Legate Rikke, go rally the men and give the order. I want this battle to be clean and short!" He shouts, quickly walking away. Legate Rikke appears to be a woman in full Imperial heavy armor that's been standing behind him through the exchange. She's older than me by a decade or so, and even though most of her face is obscured by battle scars and her helmet, she appears to be ruggedly beautiful. To my surprise, she's a Nord.
Through the blur I see her give me a strange, sad look, then walk quickly away towards the door. One of the men behind me grabs my arms and ties my wrists in front of me, then drags me away to what seems to be a closet of some sort and tosses me inside. As he's slamming the door, I grab a nearby bucket and vomit into it. I get some sort of relief from that, but not much.
The room is dark with only one small, clouded window. From what I can see, it's mostly cleaning supplies and broken furniture, as well as cobwebs. I curl up in a ball near the door and press my ear to it. I can hear the soldier's feet shuffling around, still. It sounds like everyone else has left.
In the quiet, if I listen very carefully, I can hear the rage of the battle; or maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. They'll never get here in time, not before the poison finishes me off. Perhaps without meaning to, Tullius gave me a comforting thought; if I die, I become a martyr, whereas if Ulfric died, the revolution would die with him. I'll gladly take his place.
I fall asleep for a while, mistaking the silence for death, but I startle awake when I hear a door slam. How long has it been? My whole body burns, but I'm too tired to scream.
"General! Where are the nearest reinforcements? We must send a courier-" I hear a woman say.
"It's pointless, Legate. All of the Legionnaires in Skyrim couldn't stop this. Half of them are on Ulfric's side anyway!" General Tullius shouts.
"You can't be serious. All of those men out there dying in the streets look up to you! You can't abandon them just—"
"There's no choice, Rikke! If I had one, I'd take it. Please, just... Give a dying man some silence." He begs, his voice cracking. If Tullius is this defeated, they must be close.
"If there were a dying man present, I would. Give me the order to send a courier." She demands. My eyes focus, just for an instant, on a rusty set of cutlery, sitting on a shelf. I grab a knife, rusted and dull.
"No. They'd never deliver the message in time." He sighs. Silence follows for a few moments. I hear something being knocked over, something heavy and loud.
"How can you just give up?" Rikke shouts.
She shouts for another hour, begging Tullius to let her send a courier. Galmar said that he and Ulfric would personally receive the surrender of General Tullius when they could get to Castle Dour. I begin jamming the knife into the lock on the door, using the sounds of Rikke's rage to cover the sound. I hear her walk away, I don't know where she went. She comes back, screams at him some more. I wonder if Tullius is even still in the room at all. She paces for another hour. Screams again. Knocks over something else. Finally she gives up on screaming and tries to reason with him calmly, but it's not any more effective. I jam the knife in the door until it breaks, leaving a jagged edge so wide it can't fit in the key hole.
Finally after so many anxious hours, I hear the door open again.
"Secure the door." I hear someone whisper. Is it Ulfric? Is my mind falling apart.
"Ulfric. Stop." Rikke commands, her voice hoarse. At his name, my heart flutters and I attempt to stand up, only to find that my knees are too weak.
"Stop what? Taking Skyrim back from those who'd leave her to rot?" Ulfric asks. Gods, am I glad to hear his voice.
"You're wrong, Ulfric. We need the Empire. Without it Skyrim will assuredly fall to the Dominion." Rikke insists.
"You were there with us. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty was the day the Empire died." Galmar argues. She was there? They know her?
"The Empire is weak, obsolete. Look at how far we've come and with so little. When we're done rooting out Imperial influence here at home, then we will take our war to the Aldmeri Dominion." He tells her.
"You're a damn fool." She mutters.
"Stand aside. We've come for the General." Galmar commands her; so Tullius is still here; his contingency plan didn't work out after all.
"He has given up. But I have not." She says, her voice suddenly clear.
"Rikke, go. You're free to leave." Ulfric begs her gently. Heat fills my cheeks; I've heard him use that tone very few times, and only with people he cares about, like Sofie. Or me.
"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in." She says quietly; I hear the quiet whisper of her drawing her sword. Ulfric doesn't say anything for a long time.
"You're also free to die for it." He replies. That kind and gentle Ulfric that I know was there for only a moment. He knows this woman, cared enough to try to spare her, and now must kill her.
"This is what you wanted? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you want?" She screeches
"Dammit woman, stand aside." Galmar begs; I wonder if I hear his voice crack.
"That's not the Skyrim I want to live in." She says quietly. Ulfric sighs heavily.
"Rikke. You don't have to do this."
"You've left me no choice... Talos preserve us." She whispers. After a long moment I hear her scream.
"Rikke, no!" I hear Tullius yell. I jam the broken knife into the lock harder as I hear metal against metal in the other room, even as I taste blood; I have to help them. The clash ends suddenly, and I stand perfectly still. Waiting to hear his voice, his breathing, anything to let me know he's alive.
"I never wanted it to be this way." I finally hear him mumble. I nearly choke on my relief. "We're here to receive your surrender." I kneel to the floor, peaking under the crack. The only thing I see is their feet, Tullius kneeling and clutching a wound, and Rikke sprawled on the floor behind them.
"Never." Tullius hisses.
"Just let me kill him. Then we'll get his surrender." Galmar insists.
"No, Galmar. No more killing. I've had enough for one day. For one life." Ulfric insists. The three men argue more, but Tullius is only keeping them occupied. Rikke is slowly pulling herself out of the floor, reaching for her sword. I try the lock again, and finally it gives way. As the door cracks open, Rikke is poised with her sword over Ulfric's back.

"NO!"

The door of the closet swings open and slams against the wall behind it. Rikke, Galmar, and Ulfric turn around. The rusty knife lands dead center in Rikke's neck. I had aimed it at her back, but she turned. She falls into the floor again, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Dead.
Galmar and Ulfric stare at me with the same strange expression. I stare back at them, wiping blood from my nose as I prop myself up on the door handle. Finally the door swings too wide and I fall on my knees to the floor.
"Nova..." Ulfric finally whispers. He takes one slow step, then five quick ones towards me and sweeps me up in his arms. "Nova.. Thank the gods... We all... I thought you were dead, no one could find you..." He mumbles as he squeezes me in his large arms. He's shaking; I think he's crying. Suddenly he pulls away. With my shoulders in his hands, he shakes me gently. "What were you thinking? Don't you ever do that to me again, do you understand?" He shouts.
"I'll accept... any demotion you deem n-necessary, my Jarl." I grind out, my vision fading. I think I've held on as long as I can. He laughs, though I'm not joking, and kisses me. My shock doesn't really register.
"I thought you were dead..." He mumbles. He pulls away, wiping blood from his mouth; my blood. "Nova, what's wrong? Why are you bleeding?" He demands.
"Poison, Ulfric. She's been poisoned; we need a healer, quickly." Galmar says, stepping away. I can't collect the words to tell them it's too late, but I reach up and touch Ulfric's face, tracing the scar on his cheek.
"Sofie," I mutter, unable to express my need for him to take care of her. He lays his hand on top of mine.
"I'll bring Sofie here, if that is what you wish. I just need you to hold on, Nova." He says, glancing behind him for Galmar. Galmar is long gone, off to find a healer. What a terrible scene he'll return to. I chuckle a bit, coughing up more blood.
"All I wanted was to see you again," I whisper when I can't see anymore. "I got my wish."

Photo credits: http://wamillian.deviantart.com/art/Dawn-over-Solitude-Skyrim-405242636